


Rolling in the deep

by MunkUnk



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, One-sided Elizabeth/Jack, One-sided Jack/Will, One-sided Will/Jack, Sparbossa, one-sided Jack/Barbossa, one-sided Jack/Bootstrap, one-sided slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunkUnk/pseuds/MunkUnk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the things in life that you let hurt you that you grow to regret. But as a wise man once said, what you don't know can't hurt you. Jack desperately wants to turn back time, because his one regret is the hardest thing he has to live with; Barbossa.<br/>Obviously an AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one: There's a fire starting in my heart**

Elizabeth was laying in bed, holding her son close. He reminded her of Will, even now, though he was but a mere child. She sighed quietly, as a hand idly stroked her sons hair, while she gazed out the window at the full moon. She'd seen a night like this before. And with that night had come cannon fire, and the adventure of her life... followed by things she'd rather not think of.

But even today, when she closed her eyes, she could still hear the cannon fire, and smell the smoke. She could still see the...

Wait. That _was_ cannon fire. Then that meant...

"Bill! Get up!" Elizabeth whispered, harsher then she'd intended as she climbed out of bed, pulling her robe on. Bill sat up, rubbing his eyes with child's hands, and flinched at the sound of the cannon firing. Elizabeth recognized that cannon. But last time she'd seen that ship Jack had been in semi-command, and there was no reason, at all, that Jack would attack Port Royale.

Elizabeth picked her Son up, and rushed from the bed room, just a cannon ball crashed through the window. She fled down the stairs, wishing she'd had time to pull some shoes on, and threw the door open. It might be stupid to rush out into a pirate attack in naught but a robe, and carrying a child, but she was Elizabeth Turner, and she was still the pirate king, dammit.

Bill was crying into her breast as she ran through the streets, seemingly invisible to the invading pirates. Undoubtedly they just viewed her as another hysterical mother. They didn't seem to notice she was running right toward the beach, where Barbossa had just stepped out of a long boat to stand on the shore and watch his men.

Elizabeth paused to set her son behind a stone fence, and told him to remain quiet, and stay where he was. She was sure Bill would be okay there, none of the pirates cared about fences, and none of them were even paying her, or the citizens any attention, anyhow.

As soon as he'd stopped crying Elizabeth held her head high, and walked down the beach toward Barbossa, who'd begun eating an apple by now, she made sure to stand straight and tall, and to try'n look as intimidating as possible, which wasn't very at all. "What do you think you're doing, Captain Barbossa?" she demanded as she came to a halt in front of him, placing her hands firmly on her hips, and scowling at him.

Barbossa looked bored with her already, and she was a little put out by his blank stare, but she glared back at him, none-the-less, and finally he answered, "I'm pillaging, missy." He was acting as if he didn't recognize her, as if her presence meant nothing to him, "An' why, I ask, be it any of yer concern?"

Elizabeth bristled, scowling harder, and Barbossa just rolled his eyes at her silent temper tantrum. "You gave me your word, years ago, that you would never return to Port Royale again! So just what are you doing?" she snapped throwing her arm out, and indicating the raid on her town.

"Aye, I did." Barbossa said slowly, calmly, "But then I died." he said smirking, and she just wanted to scream he was being so infuriating. "I'm in search of somethin'." he finally relented as he looked away from her, off toward the city, "Has he been here?"

Elizabeth was confused as she stood openly gaping at Barbossa, "Who?" she finally asked, as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Jaack." Barbossa drawled as he turned his gaze back to her, and the cold, cold look in his eyes made her blood freeze. She had heard from Jack, actually.

"He isn't here." Elizabeth said weakly, "A-and as Pirate King I... I command you to stop this at once!" Barbossa looked at her blankly, and remained silent, and she motioned toward the men coming toward them, their arms loaded with plunder, "Make them return that!"

"Where is he then, Miss Turner?" Barbossa sounded slightly sarcastic, and Elizabeth was a bit taken aback. How had he figured out she knew where Jack was going? Where to find him.

"I don't know." she whispered as he caught her arm in an iron like grip, and jerked her toward him,

"Maybe ye'll remember better in the morning. A'ter a nice long sleep." Barbossa grinned wickedly, and Elizabeth realized that he had no intention of obeying her, though she was the Pirate King, "In the brig." the men were cackling now, and Elizabeth was frantic. She'd left Bill. He would get hurt.

"Wait!" Elizabeth screeched as the men dragged her into the long boat, and began heading back toward the Pearl, "My son! Wait!" she was hysterical, but the men were only laughing at her, even more so when she began to weep, as a cannon ball crashed through the wall, where she'd placed her son, "William, William. My little William!" The men thought she was delusional, and ignored her cries as she reached out toward the small stone wall desperately.

Barbossa seemed to enjoy her pain, and openly laughed at her. She hated him more then ever now. She would never help him find Jack. Never.

–

Jack wasn't sure why he'd come to Port Royale. Maybe it was to see Elizabeth, but he thought it was probably to meet little William. Just like the last time he'd met Little William, though that had been in London. And Jack realized for the first time that he might be getting a bit old.

But almost immediately after he'd gotten there he'd heard cannon fire ("I recognize those guns!"), and decided it best to hide. He certainly didn't want Barbossa picking him up. But somewhere between hiding, and peaking over the edge of the stone fence to see what Barbossa was doing, he'd spotted Elizabeth marching purposefully toward the older man. She had more spirit then he did these days, the thought made him cringe.

But as he turned away from the scene to try and figure out what to do, he came face to face with a small boy with brown hair, and large brown eyes, Jack started slightly putting his back against the wall, and widening his eyes, "What're ye doin' lad?" he hissed motioning the boy down.

The boy in question scowled at him, and stood on his tip toes, and it was only then that Jack saw the resemblances, "William?" he asked and the boy looked at him, momentarily surprised, before child's curiosity took over and he smiled, and nodded,

"I'm William Turner!" The boy sounded so proud that Jack grinned at him and nodded, as the boy extended a small hand, and Jack eyed it as if it were a foreign object, "What's your name, mister?" he was almost ineligible, but somehow Jack understood him (as scary as that was for him),

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack grinned as he shook the small boys hand, and suddenly the boy seemed excited, "Ah, ye've heard of me?" Jack asked casually, and the boy nodded, "Well then, William," Jack glanced back over the fence to see Barbossa drag Elizabeth toward him, "I think we should be goin'." Jack said as he began to crawl back the way he'd come, motioning the boy to come with him, and surprised to find the boy actually coming with him.

–

Elizabeth didn't know how long she'd been in the brig, or what the purpose of putting her there was, but she didn't care. All she could think about was Bill. And what she was going to do now that she'd lost her only son.

No one knew how she felt, and no one could ever understand. She knew plenty of mothers had lost their first born sons, but none of them could ever understand what she was going through. And she couldn't even tell Will.

Elizabeth realized she was crying again when she saw a tear hit the back of her hand, "Oh William," she moaned, crossing her arms across her knees, and leaning against her thighs, pressing her forehead against her forearm, and weeping bitterly for the son she'd lost too soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two: Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me Out of the dark**

Jack didn't understand what to do with children, he realized. The boy was constantly hungry, and tired, and Jack really, really didn't know how to deal with it.

Finding a boat, even a dinghy boat to escape Port Royale in, had been easy. Going unnoticed by Barbossa (which was no easy task) had been accomplished. But taking care of, and keeping the boy fed, seemed impossible.

And the kid just wouldn't stop crying, and Jack had a headache.

It wasn't his fault, he reasoned with himself when the boy complained of the heat, that Elizabeth had kept the brat inside all the time.

Yet Jack still enjoyed playing with the boy in the afternoon, and holding him while he had his nap after lunch.

But what bothered Jack the most wasn't the whining, or the constant hunger, not even the fact that the boy slept all morning, and then kept him up when he tried to sleep.

No, it was when the boy cried for his mother. It pained Jack in a way he hadn't known was possible. And it made him think of his own childhood when Teague had taken him from his mother to take him out to sea.

He was getting attached to the boy he realized, as he lay on his back, his feet propped on the edge of the boat. He wasn't sure it'd be easy to part with the boy when he found Elizabeth again. " _Sleep_ William." Jack moaned as he covered his eyes with his hand, while the boy played with his locks as if they were fascinating.

"I'm not tired." William whined, and Jack sighed as he sat up, slowly, his eyes still shut, and Suddenly William was running past him, "Look! Look! A ship!" he cried, and Jack opened his eyes slowly to see what the boy was talking about.

"Two ships, William." Jack corrected as he wrapped his fingers around the boys small wrist and dragged him back to him. And one of them was _The Flying Dutchman_. Jack had had William for nearly three weeks, listlessly trailing after Barbossa, and he wasn't ready to give the boy up.

But he desperately needed Will's help. But Will would take William.

Unless... he didn't know who the boy was.

Jack rose to his feet slowly, and watched Will as he knelt on the deck of the Dutchman, the younger man hadn't noticed him yet. But Bootstrap had, and Jack carefully avoided looking at him, because he couldn't look at Bootstrap. Though he'd looked at him fine when he'd marked him with the Black Spot, but he had been different then.

He had been broken.

But now... Now he looked like the William Turner Jack had once loved again (but which William Turner? Jack loved all three of them...).

And Jack knew that if he looked at Bill now he would break. And he couldn't break. Not in front of Little William, and Will.

"William?" Jack called, and much to his annoyance there came three responses;

"Jack?" Bootstrap asked, almost nervously,

"Jack!" Will exclaimed as he looked over at the older man, as he leaped to his feet and rushed to the railing, to peer down at a grinning Jack Sparrow,

"Captain Jack?" Little William had asked as he tugged Jack's pant leg to find out what he wanted.

Jack sneered, knowing full well that the facade he'd been planning on weaving had just now shattered. Will was looking at Little William, mouth slack, and surprise evident on his features, and Bill was looking between his son, and grandson, clearly comparing them. "Yes!" Jack exclaimed throwing his arms open and grinning, "It's me! _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!" he told them, drawing their eyes back to him, as he leaned down to scoop Little William into his arms.

"Come aboard Jack!" Will demanded moving to lower the ladder, and Jack grinned as Little William placed his hat on his head, and clutched the boy closer, holding him a little harder then intended, as he stroked the back of the boy's head, and again avoided Bootstraps gaze.

–

Jack was hungry, he realized when Will offered them a nice supper, in the captains cabin none-the-less, he hadn't been eating much to ensure that Little William would have enough to eat. As Jack ate William sat on his lap and ate from his plate, Will was fidgeting in his seat, and he obviously wanted to reach out for the child but didn't, for fear of frightening him.

"I need your help, Will." Jack said after a moment, as he began to feed William with the fork, as if to re-educate the boy on proper manners,

"You do?" Will sounded surprised, and Jack's expression darkened, and he nodded,

"Elizabeth... needs your help." Jack said slowly, and finally realization seemed to dawn on Will, and Jack sighed, disappointed in the other mans intellect.

"What happened?" Will sounded hysterical, and Jack smiled sympathetically, and bounced William on his knee,

"Barbossa took her."

"Why?" Will demanded standing so abruptly that his chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter that startled William, and caused him to cling to Jack, burying his face in the pirates shirt,

"That... I don't know, mate." Jack stroked William's hair and held the fork up to point at Will with it, "But I do know... where 'e's heading." Jack shrugged, and Will seemed to relax slightly, he obviously had faith that Barbossa wouldn't hurt Elizabeth. He really didn't know Barbossa at all, Jack thought furrowing his brows.

"I'll help you." Will said finally and Jack rose to his feet slowly, and shifted William on his hip, before slowly, carefully walking to Will, "I think... this belongs to you." he said as he held William out to Will, and Will raised trembling hands to take the boy, and though William looked frightened he didn't try to cling to Jack, and Jack realized with a pang of guilt that he'd wanted the boy to hold onto him, "He... He takes af'er his mother." Jack finally said, and Will was surprised by the sheer emotion in Jack's voice as he spoke, when referring to the child. "I'm going out for a bit 'o air. Ye two get to know each other then, savvy?" Jack practically cooed as he stroked William's hair, and Will smiled despite the situation, because it was a little endearing to see Jack being so... affectionate with the boy. As if he cared about him.

"Thank you, Jack." Will said softly as he cradled William to his chest, and Jack just grinned.

–

Jack hadn't expecting this hurt over giving William to his _father_. He'd only ever felt a hurt like this once before, and that had been much, much, more understandable. He'd had his very soul (and heart) ripped away from him that day. But this... this was just giving Will his son back.

Jack heaved a sigh as he ran his hands over his face, as if he could scrub away the feelings he didn't want to admit he was feeling. And slowly, slowly he made his way to the helm, and sat on the railing.

This could have been his, he realized. He could have had it all. Eternal life. A great ship. Bill.

He could have done it.

Maybe he should have.

But, Jack realized as he looked up at the stars, he didn't actually... regret it.

Jack raised a hand to hold onto the rigging, turning his eyes to the moon. Ironic it was full.

He didn't know why but he thought of Barbossa as he sat gazing up at the moon, his even expression cracking as he frowned. And Jack realized he was breaking.

At least he was alone.

Jack raised his free hand to rub his eyes with his thumb and his forefinger, why did he have to think of Hector at a time like this?

His heart was weakened and vulnerable, and he felt a deep wave of sadness as he thought of the other man. Jack thought he might finally let himself crumble, but just as he was giving into himself, he heard someone shifting their weight from one foot to the other, and clearing their throat.

Jack slowly, almost hesitantly turned away from the moon to look toward the disturbance, he grinned as he raised a hand and waved slightly, "'Ello William." he tried to keep his voice even, to keep the contempt out of it, but it came out annoyed, rather then casual.

"Jack," Bill said nervously, "Can we talk?" Jack raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised by the question, and then shrugged, as if he were completely indifferent to the idea of talking to Bill. "I want to tell you... about the mutiny." Jack's expression darkened suddenly, and Bill flinched under his hard glare, but Jack nodded, much to Bill's surprise, and relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: In case no one has noticed yet, this is an AU. Like REALLY AUish. Not just a few things, a crap ton of things.**
> 
>  **And yeah, Jack is a little... a lot... OOC, but I say it's for the fact that it's an AU.**
> 
>  **Unless, he isn't that OOC? I dunno, really.**
> 
>  **Title, and chapters names, are based off of the song Rolling in the Deep by Adele.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three: Finally I can see you crystal clear**

Bill brought Jack out to the deck, and the moonlight cast an eerie glow across them, as Jack leaned heavily on the railing, while Bill stood almost ten feet away with his hands awkwardly on his hips, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. And Jack just stared at him, careful to keep his own expression blank, and refusing to start the conversation he knew was coming, because though he had dreamed, for years, of having the whole thing explained to him, he was scared.

"Hector," Bill finally said, and Jack let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, "Hadn't boarded the ship intending to mutiny against you, Jack."

"Really now?" Jack drawled, unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice, "So what happened then, mate? Did I _offend_ 'im in some way? Did 'e jus' not like tha' I was younger? Handsomer?" Jack realized he was being petty, and that Bill would probably be getting annoyed with him, but he couldn't help but be bitter with Bill. Bill had been his best friend, he had saved his life. And the fact that he'd sided with Hector (even if he did come to his sense some where down the line) over him, had always eaten at Jack in a way he hadn't known a mere memory could.

"Jack, please." Bill looked up at him finally, and again he cringed under Jack's cold stare. He wasn't accustomed to seeing Jack look at him that way (Jack had never looked at him this way. Not the night of the mutiny. Not the night he'd given him the black spot... not in any of his dreams).

And though Bill knew it was ridiculous to be afraid of such a small, and much younger man, he still was. "Let me tell you." Bill sounded desperate, so Jack remained silent, but with a wave of his hand indicated that Bill should continue.

"It started a week afore we made port in Tortuga. A week afore ye said we were goin' to find Isla De Murta." Bill sounded sad, almost broken, as he looked just beyond Jack, to the round moon in the sky.

Will wasn't sure why he was looking for Jack, but as soon as he'd laid William down to sleep he'd left his cabin in search of the older pirate, and as he wandered around his ship aimlessly, barely paying attention to his surroundings, his mind on Elizabeth, he found himself going up on the deck. But as he neared the top step he heard his fathers voice, speaking slowly, and evenly, "You and Barbossa were fighting over something, it was so trivial then that I don't remember it now." Will paused on the top step, and casually leaned against the wall, barely concealed in the shadows, but neither Jack nor Bootstrap seemed to realize he was there, so he decided to listen in.

"It must've been around midnight, because I was on watch, when you threw Barbossa out of your cabin, and I could hear you shouting, he'd done something to anger you, and whatever it was, it had continued to that night. After he went to bed you came up to the helm, and turned us toward Tortuga. I remember askin' you if you were alright, and you just looked at me, and then you nodded. I went below deck for a drink, and when I returned you were standing there waiting for me..." Bill swallowed nervously here, and shifted awkwardly,

"Finish the story, William." Jack's voice was cold now, and Bill knew it was probably because he didn't appreciate the problems he'd been having with Hector, that led up to his mutiny, being called trivial. Bill looked at the deck, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, but he nodded.

–

"Captain?" Bill asked cautiously as Jack stood with his arms folded over his chest, scowling at the moon, as if he were fighting with it, and the way he'd been fighting with everyone lately, Bill honestly wouldn't have been surprised.

Jack turned toward him slowly, smiling suddenly, and it was a bit unnerving for Bill the way Jack could go from fighting-mad, to jolly in a matter of seconds. Jack motioned vaguely and Bill was about to say something when Jack spoke, "William," Jack started slowly, carefully, as he took a step toward the deck, "I've been wonderin' somethin'. Ye seem to stare at me a lot, and I was just wonderin' why ye do that?" Jack turned to look at him slowly, smiling strangely, and Bill stammered, unsure of what to say, or how to word it. His face flushed and he looked at the floor, nervous.

And Jack couldn't help but grin wider, because this was just the reaction he'd anticipated. Just the reaction he'd wanted. He had William right where he wanted him, after all. "Excellent." Jack said throwing his arms open, "Jus' as I expected. Come 'ere, William." Bill looked up confused, but Jack was smiling, and he looked happy, and so much more like Jack-Jack, that William walked to him nervously, he paused about three feet from Jack, and the younger man stepped forward casually, and wrapped his arms around Bill's neck, smiling at him, "I won't hurt ye." Jack cooed before drawing Bill into a light, gentle, friendly kiss.

Bill started slightly, and placed his hands on Jack's shoulders, and pushed him back slightly, "Wh-" he started but Jack moved forward, and seemed to melt against him as he covered Bill's mouth with his own. He wanted to push Jack away, he wanted to deny him, he really did, because he didn't want Jack to regret this in the morning. But, Gods, he'd wanted this for so long, that it felt a bit superfluous to push Jack away. So Bill settled for wrapping his arms around Jack's waist and holding him tightly to his chest.

Jack let out a soft noise, almost a sigh, but just the right side of a moan, as he hiked a leg up on Bill's side, and moved his hips experimentally. It felt almost wrong to be moving against someone who was not Hector this way, but Jack wanted to do this. Needed to do this.

Bill let out a soft sigh, as he ran a hand across the expanse of Jack's back, and down over the curse of his ass, giving a light squeeze, he slowly trailed his hand up the younger mans leg, to hook his fingers under the younger mans knee, to pull his leg up higher.

Bill was backing them into a wall, Jack realized gratefully, not really wanting any of the other men to stumble on to this. As his back hit the wall, probably a little harder then Bill had intended (unless, Jack mused, he liked it rough) Jack let out a small gasp, as he arched against the other man, his arms reflexively tightening around Bill.

Bill moved deftly, and Jack honestly hadn't expected him to be so good at this. But the other man was moving his hips in a way that was making Jack see stars, And Jack had honestly believed that Hector was the only one who could make him feel the weak with lust. But Bill was having a _fine_ go with it.

Jack moaned low in his throat and tipped his head back against the wall as Bill began to mouth at his neck, thrusting his hips up into Jack as he did so. Jack opened his eyes slowly, breathing slightly heavily, he'd thought he'd heard...

Jack was little more then surprised when he saw Hector standing in the mouth of the hall, looking at them, his mouth was slack, and his eyes were wide with shock. And Jack realized the man looked ready to beg him. Well, Jack mused, he'll have plenty of time later.

Bill slammed into Jack, causing Jack's hands to scrabble across his shoulders for purchase he was so startled by the movement, but Bill was pressing up against him, and roughly working at his pants, and Jack didn't miss Hector's horrified expression.

Jack wrapped an arm around Bill's neck, splaying his fingers across the mans cheek sensually, and looked straight into Hector's eyes, and smiled. When Bill suddenly slipped a hand into his pants, Jack let out a low moan as the other mans long fingers wrapped around his already, painfully, erect penis.

Jack let his eyes flutter shut, and exaggerated the moan. He knew Hector would get offended. Knew Hector would view this as Jack telling him that Bill was pleasing him more then Hector had.

Jack knew he should feel bad. But it was impossible to feel bad with Bill pumping him like that.

–

"Stop." Jack snapped, looking away from Bill, and the older man continued to look at the deck in between his feet, obviously worried. "I suppose Hector told ye tha' I seen 'im there, then?" Jack asked softly, and Bill muttered a weak 'yes'. Jack inhaled sharply, more angry then he knew he should be. "Leave me, William. I 'ave to think." Bill didn't seem to want to go, so Jack spared him a cold, encouraging look, and the older pirate nodded hesitantly and slowly turned, and began to walk away.

Jack knew exactly what fight William was talking about. The fight that had apparently set the ball rolling. The fight that had led to him practically forcing himself on Bill. The fight that had led them to that night. The night he'd _seen_ Hector standing in the hall, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He'd looked so sad, so desperate, that Jack had felt powerful. Felt like he could make Hector beg him.

The night he'd looked over Bill's shoulder into Hector's eyes, and smiled.

Yes, Jack remembered that night well.

Watching Bill walk away Jack came to the startling realization that he actually resented the other pirate. Jack found himself wishing he could start over, with everything.

If only he'd never met Hector Barbossa... he would be a happy captain aboard the Black Pearl, and he would be rich.

Jack resented them both.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four: Go ahead and sell me out**

Will couldn't believe what he'd just heard. His father and Jack (and Jack and Barbossa!) had had relations. He wasn't sure what to say, what to think. So he settled for walking out on deck, and slowly moving toward Jack, the older pirate looked up at him lazily, and Will offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and paused waiting for Jack speak.

But Jack's expression changed when he saw Will standing there. It went from disinterested to cold, and Will suddenly felt nervous. And Jack wasn't speaking, and that was making his hard expression even worse, and Will didn't know what to do, so he finally cleared his throat and carefully asked; "What's wrong Jack?"

Jack started slightly, offering a friendly smile, and opening his arms, "William!" he said it almost happily as he moved toward him, pulling his compass up in one hand, to hold it loosely, making sure it was in view as he approached, almost cautiously, "Shall we go after Elizabeth now, then?"

Will was glad Jack had so easily changed the subject, bringing their uncomfortable moment to a swift close before it had started, generously saving him from having to talk with Jack about his father having had relations with the man. It would have made Will awkward around Bill, to say the least.

"Yes. Lets." Will agreed with a grin, taking the proffered compass.

–

The crew was rough with her as they dragged her from the cell, and she made sure to drop her weight, to make it difficult on them. Why should she even bother leaving her cell, she wondered bitterly, if she wasn't planning on talking to Barbossa?

She'd told him the first day he'd asked her that she had no intention of helping him find Jack. And she still had no intention of finding Jack. Despite what he might say to her, because really, what did she have to lose? (Will).

"Ah, Miss Turner, so good of ye to join us." Barbossa was standing at the top of the stairs, and her heart was in her throat because it reminded her of the first time she'd ever set foot on the ship, and she realized she was going to cry again, because this all made her feel like a helpless little girl again.

"I know," Barbossa said as he descended the stairs and walked toward her, "Ye aren't goin' to talk, are ye?" Elizabeth remained silent as he came to a halt in front of her, and he laughed, she sneered and looked away. "Bind her hands." He said casually, and one of them men came forward, and began to tie her hands together, she didn't fight. She didn't see a point in it.

"Are ye familiar," Barbossa asked as he pulled his cutlas from the sheath and looked at Elizabeth, "With the rules of the life Will has accepted?" Oh she was paying attention now (and to Barbossa's surprise, it was nice to see that fire in her eyes again), Barbossa smirked. "I'm sure to save ye he'll tell me where I can find Jack." Barbossa was so casual, that it surprised Elizabeth when he whirled around to cut the man behind hims throat. Elizabeth let out a shrill scream, and the men standing with her looked at her as if she were crazy.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as Barbossa roughly grabbed her by the back of the neck and drew her close, "Stay calm now, Miss Turner." he said softly as he pressed the blade of the cutlass to her throat. Barbossa was watching the water, and she knew what he was waiting for.

And there it was. Breaking the surface, and looking amazing. Because there was Will. And... and Jack,

Elizabeth was weeping now, and Will didn't look surprised to see her, but when he looked at Barbossa he looked murderous.

"Hello boy." Barbossa practically cooed, and he spared Bill a look so full of hate that Will was surprised, but before he could speak Jack did,

"Tha's the Pirate King, mate." Jack said stepping up to the railing and motioning toward Elizabeth, "Let her go." Will could tell by the tone of Jack's voice that he was serious about saving Elizabeth.

"Jack's right. Let her go!" Will demanded grabbing the railing, and leaning toward Barbossa, "Or it's to Davy Jones locker with you!" Will was furious when Barbossa just laughed,

"Tell ye what," he cooed, grinning wider as he took a step forward holding Elizabeth closer, "I'll trade ye." he looked pleased, though no one was sure what he was pleased about. But then his eyes flickered to Jack.

Jack made a face as he took a step back, and to the side stepping, much to Will's surprise, behind Bill. Jack didn't like the way things were going right now. Barbossa had a glint in his eye that he didn't like to see, and Will looked contemplative.

"Trade you for what?" Will demanded after a moment of silence, and Barbossa raised an eyebrow.

"Jack Sparrow." Barbossa drawled as he looked right at Bill, and laughed. "I want Jack Sparrow."

"No!" Bill snapped and Jack looked at him, surprised, and then he looked at Will, and the happiness he'd felt melted at Will's expression, "There has to be another way, William." Bill pleaded as he turned toward Will,

"Ye never did un'erstan' how to talk to yer superiors!" Barbossa snapped at Bill, and the other pirate looked at him, absolutely furious,

"Me?" Bill snapped clutching the railing and leaning forward, "Me? Really Hector? I'm not the one that treated Jack like he was a child! I'm not the one who disregarded his orders, and gave the men orders behind his back!" Bill snapped as he leaned down to sneer at Barbossa, "I never talked down to my captain."

Barbossa just looked at him for a moment, and again Bill saw that silent cold fury in his eyes, and wondered if the man was going to fire on him, "Yer answer, Mister Turner? The wench, or Jack?"

Will swallowed hard as he looked at Jack, again, and then to Elizabeth. Jack had done so much for them, he had saved their son, and he had saved them. But it was Elizabeth, and Will knew he was going to pick Elizabeth. Just like he knew Jack knew.

But it was Jack...

"Jack, I..." Jack looked up at him, pleading, and obviously desperate, and though it was bad enough to have Jack looking at him like that way now his father was looking at him with wide, desperate eyes.

But it was Elizabeth.

"I'll give you Jack." Will heard Jack make a strange noise, but he had turned to face Barbossa, "We'll come over, and I shall leave with Elizabeth, unharmed, or my crew will open fire." Barbossa didn't seem impressed, so Will just sighed, and turned away, slowly, almost hesitantly taking hold of Jack's wrist and leading him away from Bill. "I'm sorry Jack." Will whispered, but Jack just looked at him, and stayed silent. And to Will that was worse then if Jack had yelled at him. Worse then if Jack had hit him.

Because if Jack was silent that meant he was really hurting. And Will was the cause of that pain. And he'd never wanted to hurt Jack.

"I'm sorry." he whispered again.

–

Elizabeth was sitting up to the table with her arms wrapped around herself, and she wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't talk to him.

It was just like the time they'd gone to save Jack. She was mad at him, and he didn't know why.

Seeing her like this he was glad his father had their son, because he wasn't sure how well their son would handle seeing his mother like this.

"Elizabeth." Will whispered as he looked up at her from where he was kneeling on the floor, with a hand nervously stroking her hands, which were clasped together in her lap tightly. "Please talk to me."

"How could you do that to him, Will?" Elizabeth hissed, but still she didn't look up at him.

"I had to. I had to save you." Will wasn't sure why this should even be a problem. The important thing was that he'd saved her... right?

Elizabeth pulled her hands away sharply, as if he were disgusting her, "Please!" she whispered, sounding near hysterics, "Leave me, William!" Will looked slightly affronted, but rose to his feet regardless, and stood looking down at the woman he loved more then anything in the world, and he desperately wanted to hold her, but knew she would rebuke him, so silently he went out to sit on the deck with his father and son.

Only to find that his father didn't want to speak to him.

He would have yelled at the man, told him that what he'd done to Jack had been much worse.

But he didn't want to frighten his son, so instead he took William up to the crows nest, and retold tales of glory, and heroics.

Stories where the hero always won, and always got the girl.

Stories where the hero always got the best ship, and always lived. Always kept his freedom.

Stories where the hero was always a pirate.

Stories where the hero was always named Jack Sparrow.

And when his son slept, Will allowed himself to cry. Because his wife didn't want him, and he'd just given the only man who'd ever truly understood him, to his nemesis, and he knew the older pirate might not live to see the morning, but still he held on to hope.

Because his heroes name was always Jack Sparrow.

–

Jack was silent when Hector had him brought to the cabin, and Hector was beginning to wonder if Elizabeth and Jack had made some sort of pact to be silent with him. He didn't care, where he hadn't been able to make Elizabeth talk, he had a fine idea of how to get Jack to talk.

Once they were alone (finally alone with Jack) Hector walked toward him, extending a hand toward his still silent prisoner, and gently cupped Jack's cheek, "Jaack," he murmured, "We need to talk." Barbossa said it softly, as he stroked under Jack's eye with the pad of his thumb, grinning wickedly at the younger man. Jack just stared at him, as if waiting for Barbossa to start the conversation he wanted to be no part of, yet knew he would participate in.

Jack didn't speak, but continued to stare at him, so Barbossa smiled as he moved his hand down to grab Jack's wrist, and jerked him forward, "Where are my chats, Jaack?" he drawled casually.

Jack snickered and Barbossa rolled his eyes slowly, exaggeratedly, "It'll be easier on ye to tell me now."

Jack chuckled as he jerked his arm away, rubbing his wrist as if Hector's touch had burnt him, "I'll tell ye where yer charts are, Hector. If ye promise to release me." Hector looked contemplative for a moment, but he nodded, and Jack grinned widely, "There's an island, not many have seen it, and returned to tell the tale of it. But I 'ave." Jack swayed forward, raising his hands, and Hector continued to smirk,

"O' course ye 'ave."

"I buried the charts on the island." Jack said shrugging and Hector stared at him, obviously waiting for something,

"And?"

"Oh, right." Jack said whirling on his heel and sauntering to the desk, "Ye want to know what island it is?" Jack casually began reading a map, "It's called Isla del Tiempo."

"Rubbish." Hector snapped, and Jack turned to look at him slowly, as he drew a rolled up, tattered piece of paper, from behind his sash, grinning strangely,

"Is it?" he asked as he sauntered to Barbossa, and offered him the old map, which he took hesitantly, and began to unroll it, "Isn't that what you said about Isla De Muerta? I assure ye mate. It is real. I've _been_ there. Remember?"

Barbossa studied the map with intent eyes, scowling deeply, "Where did ye get this map, boy?"

"I don't right see what it matters, but I found it. As it were." Jack said shrugging casually, "An' as per our agreement, ye have to release me now."

Barbossa looked up at him slowly, before laughing sharply, "Aye. Release ye." Barbossa turned slowly to open the door, and motioned a tall black man into the cabin, "I'll be releasin' ye once I 'ave me charts again, Jaack." Barbossa looked to the deck hand that stood at his side, "Throw 'im in the brig."

Jack closed his eyes, and straightened his spine, obviously angry, but he walked willingly when the man roughly took hold of his shoulder, "Bugger." Jack hissed as he was led past Barbossa.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five: And I'll lay your ship bare**

Jack had a headache. And he was mad. Mad at Bill. Mad at Will. Mad at Barbossa. Mad at Elizabeth, mostly Elizabeth. She was so ungrateful.

Mad at the Pearl.

He had to think of a plan. He had to get out of here. It was driving him mad, to say the least.

Barbossa had chained him down here days ago, or had it been a week? Weeks? He wasn't sure. And the man only fed him once a day (and it wasn't that part that bothered him. He was used to barely eating, but really if you expected someone to offer themselves to you, would a little generosity hurt? Not that he planned on giving himself to Barbossa, but that was beside the point.)

There was a lesson here, Jack was sure of it.

But it seemed so far away in the fog that had settled around him.

Something about trust, or Will. Or maybe it was Bill? He wasn't sure any more. But he didn't really care either.

He just had to get away from Barbossa.

Jack just couldn't concentrate, and he desperately needed to think straight, but every time he moved the chains rattled, and he couldn't imagine what had possessed Barbossa to shackle him, but he assumed the man had what he viewed as a good reason, so Jack didn't talk about it to the guards. But then again, Jack wasn't talking about much these days. Jack leaned back against the bars, yawning as he rubbed his eyes, tiredly. Maybe he could rest his eyes for a moment. After all, what could it hurt?

–

Jack awoke with a start, Pintel was kneeling in front of him, unlocking the shackles, and Jack was utterly confused, "Cap'n says 'e needs to see ye. We'll make the island by morning, an' he jus' needs to go over some charts wiff ye." Jack smiled as he climbed to his feet,

"Yes, I'm sure. He wants to go over some," Jack paused for emphasis as he was led out of the cell, " _charts_." Jack said, grinning wolfishly, and giving Pintel a friendly nudge. Pintel looked a little confused, and Jack supposed his subtlety was lost on the other man, and fell silent as he was led to (his) Barbossa's cabin.

Jack strolled into the cabin casually, as if he were in fact, not a prisoner, and sat heavily on the bed, despite Barbossa's disapproving glare. "Fancy seein' ya here, mate." Jack said, in a quite bored tone, as he examined his fingernails.

Barbossa snickered as he pushed the map across the desk, and sat staring blankly at Jack, "We'll be there tomorrow." he said carefully, and Jack quirked an eyebrow, obviously wondering why he'd been called in for this, "Where is me chart buried, Jaack?"

Jack grinned as he leaped up from the bed, and sauntered over to the desk, and began looking over the map, "Here." he said as he tapped on the map, making sure Barbossa saw the indicated area, before lifting his hand away from the map. "Why are ye askin' now?" Jack asked hesitantly.

Barbossa grinned exaggeratedly, and it made Jack cringe, "Jus' curious." Barbossa said lazily as he shrugged slightly. Jack didn't know if he trusted that smile, that tone, that attitude (it was all too familiar).

Jack slowly turned away to look at the room, really look at it (because that look told Jack everything he knew Barbossa's words wouldn't). There wasn't much different about the room, nothing you wouldn't notice unless you _knew_ the room. New candles. There were new candles. And Jack knew what that meant. "I would like to go back to me cell now." Jack said as he whirled around to face Barbossa, giving a shaky smile, "Savvy?"

Barbossa stood slowly, almost carefully, and Jack idly wondered if the other man thought he actually was a bird that could be startled by sudden movements. "In due time, Jaack." Barbossa said, as he walked across the room to bolt the door, still grinning, "In due time."

Jack felt weak, tired, and completely hungry. And he really didn't want this. Not right now. Not with Barbossa having a power trip. But he refused to give any inclination of just how weak his knees felt right now (almost as if he were wanting to fall to his knees and pray, and maybe he did. Because really he didn't seem to know what he wanted anymore). "Oh." Jack said nervously, and Barbossa raised an eyebrow, confused. But Jack didn't clarify, because he didn't need to. Barbossa knew what he was planning on doing, and he knew now that Jack knew what he was planning on doing.

"It's been a while since ye've been," Barbossa paused dramatically to look at the bed, "'ere, Jaack." he murmured Jack's name, as if they were together again(, still), and Jack laughed quietly, as he took a slight step back, and sat on the edge of the desk,

"Not long enough." he said casually, and Barbossa looked at him angrily, but he just grinned. Jack looked away carefully avoiding looking at the bed, he remembered the last time he'd been here (" _It's heaven_."), Jack shuddered, as he raised a hand motion vaguely at Hector, as if he wanted the other man to leave him alone, and Hector rolled his eyes slightly.

"Are ye sayin' ye didn't enjoy it?" Barbossa drawled as he walked across the floor to pause in front of Jack, catching his chin and roughly turning his face to him, Jack looked up at him blankly, and Hector wondered if perhaps Jack had only enjoyed it at the time because he'd thought they weren't really there. Thought that they were all ghosts.

Jack grinned as he stared at Barbossa, shrugging, "Not really." he murmured, startled when Barbossa reached out and caught hold of his arms, dragging him forward. "What're ye doin' now, mate?" Jack asked, feigning casualty, cautiously raising his hands, and lightly resting them on Barbossa's chest.

Barbossa smirked as he leaned down toward Jack, grinning wickedly "Really now, Jaack?" he murmured as he lightly kissed Jack's lips, and though Jack straightened up, sitting stiff and awkward, he didn't try to pull away at all, but rather parted his lips slightly, and allowed Barbossa to kiss him harder.

He wanted this. He knew it. He knew Barbossa knew it. He couldn't move away, he realized as Barbossa wrapped an arm around his waist. Jack moved his lips against Barbossa's slowly, as he clutched the front of the other mans shirt, and moved forward against Barbossa, because it was really the only direction he could go.

(" _And best of all...Heaven has you._ ")

Jack let out a small gasp as Barbossa pushed him down against the desk, and kissed his neck hungrily. He kept his eyes closed, because with his eyes closed he could lie to himself, and pretend he was just dreaming.

He could be dreaming, he realized as Barbossa's lips covered his again, he really could be, and as he began to reciprocate the kiss he desperately hoped he was, because he didn't want to have to believe he was this broken.

This pathetic.

He was desperate for things to go back to the way they used to be. (But he couldn't admit that, now could he?)

Jack moved his body up against Barbossa's and realized for the first time since he'd found out that Barbossa had been brought back to life; things couldn't go back to the way they'd once been.

Ever.

It wasn't even just that Barbossa was a mutinous bastard, no that wasn't it. He could, and had gotten over that. It wasn't that Barbossa insisted he was captain of the Black Pearl, when Jack actually was. It wasn't even that Barbossa didn't (and possibly never had) love him any more.

No, it was none of that.

But Jack had just realized, as he ran his fingers up into Barbossa's hair, and clutched a fistful.

It was that he didn't love Barbossa anymore.

That night they'd been together after all of the murderous fiends had come to save him, that night had been sort of a good-bye for him.

He'd finally been letting go.

Maybe, Jack thought as he kissed Barbossa like he needed him, Barbossa just needed to say good-bye.

It wasn't what he wanted, Jack knew that as he tipped his head back to allow Barbossa access to his throat.

It wasn't what he needed.

It wasn't who he wanted, who he needed.

Jack let out a soft moan as Barbossa nipped his throat. But Barbossa did seem to know what he wanted, what he needed, so he supposed he could let himself enjoy it while he had it.

Jack bucked up against Barbossa, putting a hand on the other mans shoulder, he tugged at his hair, receiving a hiss of annoyance from Barbossa, he grinned up at the older pirate as he pulled back to scowl at Jack, "'s a lil uncomfortable here." Jack said casually, and Barbossa rolled his eyes moving back, glad to feel Jack's fingers slip free from his hair, before pulling the man to his feet, and pushing him toward the bed,

"Ye always did seem to think o' jus' the wrong thing the say at the wrong time." Barbossa grumbled, and Jack laughed as he sashayed toward the bed, rolling his own eyes, as he waved a hand dismissively, before dropping unceremoniously onto the bed.

"You know jus' what to say to get me goin'." Jack joked as he rolled onto his back, and grinned at Barbossa, who seemed a bit stand-offish all of the sudden, "What's wrong?" Jack asked as he slowly sat up, nervously pushing his hair over his shoulder as he continued to gaze at Barbossa.

Barbossa scowled, as he rested a hand on the desk where Jack had just been, and continued to stare at Jack, "Who're ye thinkin' of, Jaack?" his words were so unexpected that Jack couldn't hide the sheer embarrassment that washed over him, for which Barbossa gave him a severe look, obviously little more then upset, but Jack was Jack, and he could almost always talk his way out of bad situations,

"Hector." Jack said after a moment, leaning back onto his hands and shrugging slightly, "I'm thinking of Hector." he lied with a smile, and Barbossa looked a little perplexed, and so Jack continued speaking, "Ye're not Hector now, yer Barbossa. 'ave been ever since ye mutinied against me." Jack explained with a flourish if his hand, and a wider grin.

Barbossa continued to look at him blankly, obviously not trusting Jack's lie to be a truth, and for perfectly logical reasons. "Wouldn't be Bill would it? Or Will?" Barbossa enjoyed the surprised expression Jack was looking at him with now, "Or perhaps even Miss Turner?" Jack looked away, and Barbossa snickered, "It should be me, Jaack." he said as he approached the bed, and rested a hand on the headboard, "But it's not." Jack didn't answer, and Barbossa knew it was because he was angry, and that seemed perfectly... good to him.

"It's him. It's always him. But I can change that." Jack was looking at him now, "Just let me, Jaack. That's all I ask of ye."

"Let you make me... love you? Again?" Jack chuckled as he shook his head, letting out a sigh, "I tried, I really did, Barbossa. But I can't do it again. And ye know it." Jack looked up at him again, with that familiar fire in his eyes that Barbossa missed seeing.

"I can." Barbossa answered Jack after a moments hesitation, and Jack just continued to stare at him, scowling, it annoyed Barbossa, but he knew he would have to be more patient with Jack this time around, else wise he'd fly away, never to be seen again.

Jack didn't respond, but rather turned away, huffing, obviously bored, or angry, with the topic. So Barbossa sat on the edge of the bed (once Jack's bed.) and reached out toward the other man, cupping his cheek in his hand, and leaning toward him slowly, and pressed his lips lightly against the corner of Jacks mouth, and Jack, remembering the first time Barbossa had kissed him like that let out a soft sigh, and turned into the kiss, surprising himself.

But Barbossa viewed it as a small triumph, and slipped his hand down across Jack's neck, to grip the back, deepening the kiss, glad when Jack roughly caught hold of the front of his shirt, and moved his body forward to meet Barbossa's.

Jack was kissing him almost hungrily, and Barbossa idly wondered if he was just doing it to shut him up, but he didn't really care. As long as Jack was here with him he wouldn't mind. He wouldn't care.

Wrapping an arm around Jack's waist he moved forward, and slowly laid them down on the bed, causing Jack arch up against him as he tried to situate himself more comfortably, causing Barbossa to buck against him slightly, which amused Jack (who always having someone to satisfy himself with didn't know the pains of going without the touch of another for an extended period of time).

Barbossa was always good in bed, with Jack. Jack knew that, but tonight had been something a kin to amazing. He hated to admit though, that Barbossa might be right. He could fall in love with the man again, if that was what Barbossa had truly wanted, lucky for him though lust always won out over what Barbossa thought was love. He was strange really.

But Jack did care about him, he realized. He was loathe to let himself admit it, but he would always care for Barbossa.

As he lay in Barbossa's arms looking out the window above the bed, Jack realized that this was just where he wanted to be.

This felt like... home to him.

Barbossa and the Black Pearl.

They were all he'd ever wanted out of life. And they were all he was going to remember at the end.

But he smiled, still unwilling to let himself believe that he still cared about Barbossa, as he shifted into a more comfortable position, resting his head on Barbossa's arm, and sighing happily.

He would just have to think up a nice, wily plan to regain captaincy aboard the Pearl. And some how get Bill (and Elizabeth, and Little William) back on the Pearl.

And then his life would be perfect.

Jack ran his fingertips across Barbossa's pulse point, if only to feel the beat of his heart, as he continued to stare up at the full moon.

This could all work out perfectly.

"G'night, Hector." Jack whispered as he closed his eyes, though to him Hector had died the day Barbossa had marooned him. Maybe, Jack thought hopefully, I can bring him back.

And with that thought in mind Jack drifted into a sound sleep, the kind of sleep he hadn't known for years, and probably wouldn't again any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... Wow. This chapter kinda blows, to be honest. And I'm sorry, to whoever is reading this, but I kinda... broke while writing it -cries-.
> 
> And I was meaning to write a sex scene here, but my Jack!Muse just wouldn't let me. I dunno why he's being such a jerk, but I guess it's cause he's feeling neglected while I RP Pokemon -cough-.
> 
> But for sure, the chapters will be coming more slowly from now on, but please do try'n enjoy this shitty chapter.
> 
> I'm so sad! This is turning more into a Bootstrap/Jack fic then a Sparbossa fic, and it makes me le sad, because I've never been into Bootstrap/Jack, but now I'm like... on a really big Bootstrap/Jack kick, even though I still love Sparbossa.   
> Is that weird? D:


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six: And see how I'll, leave with every piece of you**

He should have known. He couldn't trust Barbossa. And the fact that he'd let himself be lulled back into the mans arms (allowed him to worm his way back into his heart) made Jack realize he was just a fool.

He should have learned by now (after not two but three mutinies, and numerous betrayals, by not two, but _all_ of his closest friends.)

What was it about him that people were so drawn to, yet despised to the point that they would gladly sell him out for their benefit, or leave him for dead on stupid islets?

This was just getting preposterous.

Jack stood on the shore and watching as Barbossa sailed away in his ship for the third time in their unnatural lives, and wondered why the feeling inside was but a dull ache rather then the burning desire he knew it should be.

"I'm done then." Jack said at length as he watched the sails, and imagined Barbossa was laughing.

Immortality, Jack thought as he stood prone on the beach, was it really as good as he thought? Or was it a punishment in disguise?

Unbidden Will came to mind, and Jack looked at the sea suspiciously, wondering if Will would somehow come past and save him (he doubted it greatly. Will had his girl, his son and his father. What could he possibly want Jack for?).

He couldn't possibly fathom the upsides to immortality right now, not even the type of immortality the Fountain of Youth was supposed to bring.

Of course he would love to be the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow, but just what, he wondered, would he do in all of his time on earth?

And if Barbossa wasn't immortal just how would he pass his time?

And what of Elizabeth? Surely a life of unfathomable length would be dull and drab without a fiery little wench such as her.

Jack turned away from the sight that should be breaking his heart and surveyed the small islet that reminded him so of the rum runners isle, that he was half tempted to search for the rum he was sure he would find.

* * *

"Captain!" Pintel said as he rushed up the stairs toward Barbossa, "There's a ship comin' up on us fast!" he said as he came to a halt behind Barbossa, with Ragetti at his heels. Barbossa scowled as he turned away from the islet he'd just marooned Jack on (and he was utterly horrified to find a cold twisting inside, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, a feeling he couldn't quite identify).

"Aye." he murmured as he took the helm, "Raise the flag." he snapped, glowering at Regatti, who nodded dumbly, and rushed down to get the flag.

He hadn't expected to come under attack here, Jack had said that it wasn't a wall traveled route, but then, he had been rather secretive about where he'd gotten the map. Barbossa scowled wondering if perhaps Jack had set them up, but when he glanced back, expecting to see a triumphant Jack grinning, he saw instead that Jack Sparrow had disappeared.

* * *

"Will!" Elizabeth called as she rushed across the deck to meet him where he stood with his father, who was holding _her_ son (and she couldn't even begin to describe how uncomfortable that made her), "That's the Black Pearl! What are you doing?" she asked as she caught hold of the railing (Will's clothes baggy and unfamiliar on her, so unlike the Naval uniform Norrington had given her years before).

Will scowled as he looked over at Elizabeth, surprised by the sheer horror in her tone of voice, "I'm getting Jack back." he said as he watched her frantically look the ship over,

"What if..." Elizabeth said as she turned around to face her husband, she didn't have to finish her sentence though. Will knew what she was thinking, knew why she didn't want to be here,

"Elizabeth," Will said in a gentler tone, "You should take William below." Elizabeth looked furious over the suggestion, which surprised Will, but before he could respond to angry looks he noticed that Barbossa was flying his flag.

"We're going to fight." Will said grimly, though he that wasn't what Elizabeth wanted to hear at all, knew this wasn't what she wanted their son to see, knew she didn't want to do this in case Jack was still alive and well on the ship (his ship). But Will knew this was what Barbossa wanted, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, it was what he wanted too.

"Will!" Elizabeth snapped as she walked toward him, holding herself high with that grace that came naturally to her, and using all of her airs of authority, "You're going to attack them? What if you destroy the ship?" Will looked straight back at her, glowering, and what she saw in his eyes surprised her. She could tell it was his intention to destroy the ship. "That's Jack's ship!" Elizabeth shrieked throwing her arm out, and pointing toward the ship, "What will you tell him?"

"It's Barbossa's." Will said shrugging, and Elizabeth shook her head slightly, "I think Jack would rather see it sunk then continue to watch Barbossa abuse it." Will said carefully, and Elizabeth opened her mouth, obviously shocked.

She felt numb all over. Will was going to destroy the ship. Jack's ship. Jack's soul. "But, Will..." she couldn't understand it. He wasn't like this. Will wasn't like this. He didn't like violence. He didn't encourage it. He avoided it.

What had happened to her William? Her beautiful, gentle, William?

Bill was pushing her son into her arms, and though she wrapped her arms around him, she didn't feel his warmth, because she was numb.

"What's become of you?" she whispered as she continued to stare at him, and Will just looked back at her with the coldest eyes she'd ever seen him use with her (or anyone for that matter). And without realizing it she had turned and begun running.

Running away from Will.

Will frowned as he watched Elizabeth go. She had looked at him as if she didn't know him anymore (" _What's become of you?_ "), but then had she really ever known him?

Will scowled, and Bill watched him carefully, watched him change. Watched as his son became like him. And he wanted desperately to stop it, wanted to save his son from himself (save him from _him_ ) but there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do (except maybe Jack, who always seemed to be able to save everyone but himself in the end).

"All hands on deck!" Will bellowed, and Bill turned away to work. Turned away so he didn't have to see that familiar look in Will's eyes, turned away so he didn't have to watch all of the good in Will disappear.

Turned away so he didn't have to believe that he was losing his son.

* * *

"Mummy?" William was so quiet, compared to the sound of her heart in her ears (the sound of Will's heart in her head), that Elizabeth almost didn't want to answer, almost didn't want to believe this was real. That this was her child (that he was Will's). "Are you okay?" he innocence made her think of Jack Sparrow (though she couldn't explain it), and without realizing it Elizabeth began to weep as she knelt in the corner, clutching her son close.

"Yes, William." she whispered, and she realized that maybe she didn't love Will anymore, and she began to sob as she sat heavily on the floor, though in an uncomfortable position she didn't seem to realize it, as she stroked her sons hair and he continued to talk, though he wasn't heard.

The first boom of the canons brought a scream from her, and William, wide eyed and scared covered his ears with his hands, and Elizabeth began shaking uncontrollably as she held him tighter, crushing him to her chest as she sobbed. She wanted this to stop (she wanted to be home. Away from all of this. She wanted to be _alone_. She didn't want _Will_ anymore).

* * *

Jack didn't turn around when he heard the first canon shot (it wasn't the Peals guns, but it was familiar), he didn't know what was going on, why Barbossa and someone else (he was sure he knew them, but who was it again?) were engaging in battle. He didn't really care either, but he did wonder how the other captain had found this place. But he was too busy to pay attention to any of that, though with each canon shot from the strange-yet-familiar-ship he winced imagining each shot the Pearl was taking.

He was standing on the edge of a shimmering pool of... time? He wasn't sure if that was the right term, but he liked the way it sounded.

He was standing on the edge of time.

Finally he could have everything he wanted. He could stop the mutiny before it began. Better yet, he could change the course of his entire history; He could stop himself from ever even _seeing_ Barbossa.

If he'd never seen him, then he never would have talked to him, and then he never would have hired him. And then... everything would be good. Everything would be perfect. Bill would be his quarter master, and that would be all that he'd ever need.

He wouldn't bring the Isla De Muerta up. And they would never get cursed (he would have to come up with another grand scheme to become rich and famous). They would all grow up well and good, they would all grow old (except maybe him, since he did in fact happen to know where the Fountain of Youth was.).

Will would grow to be a good pirate (but without their favorite Bonnie-Lass).

Bill would remain his best friend.

And all would be well.

Forever ever after.

* * *

The shock of the three gun impact shook the ship, and Barbossa almost (almost) lost his footing as the ship rocked violently, and he watched the deck as his men did lose their footing. This was a losing battle he didn't know why he was fighting.

He wasn't even sure why Will had attacked him, but he couldn't stop it now. And all he could do was go down fighting. And that was just what he planned on doing; If his ship was going down, he was too.

"Ye scurvy mutts! Return fire! What's wrong? Are the lot o' ye cowards?" Barbossa bellowed as he glared down at them, and Ragetti, stumbling and falling down again looked as if he wanted to speak, yet he remained silent, and Barbossa rolled his eyes at their displays.

* * *

"What's happening Mummy?" William whispered, sniffling as he clutched the front of Elizabeth's shirt tightly, as tears began to run down his cheeks, and for the first time since this had begun, Elizabeth felt guilty.

She felt useless.

She felt like she'd been, and still was being, an awful mother.

"I don't know, Bill." She admitted as she shifted into a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged she wrapped her arms around her son, and began to rock him slowly, as she stroked his back in what she hoped was comforting fashion. "But Daddy will save us." she wished into his hair, though tears were still streaming freely from her eyes, "Everything will be alright. You'll see Bill. Everything will be fine."

She didn't believe it. But she knew she needed to sound like she believed it. Knew she needed to make her son believe it.

"We're going to be alright." ( _Jack will save us_ ) Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to will herself away from this situation.

Tried to find peace.

* * *

Bill couldn't stand this. He couldn't watch Jack's beloved ship be blown to pieces. He had to stop this, or get away from all of this.

He had sunk many a ship, but never before had he sunk the ship of a friend, never before had he stolen his friends very soul from this earth. Never before had he felt so sad.

"William please!" Bill said pleadingly as he caught hold of Will's arm and pulled him around to face him, "You have to stop this! You have no idea what you're doing, please." Bill realized he sounded pathetic. But he didn't care.

Will was blowing the Pearl to pieces before his very eyes (and he couldn't help but remember when Jack and Will together had destroyed the HMS Endeavour, and now he was watching the Pearl fall to the depths, piece by piece).

And Bill realized that he'd seen something similar to this before.

The day of the mutiny. He'd watched Jack Sparrow fall apart, piece by piece. He'd watched Jack Sparrow dive down into the depths.

And he hadn't recognized the man who had come back up.

Just like he didn't recognize Will right now.

"Please, for Jack?"

* * *

Will pulled his arm out of Bill's grasp, and shook his head, shocked by his fathers actions, and honestly a little annoyed. The man obviously didn't understand that he was doing this fr Jack. Just like Elizabeth didn't understand.

None but Jack would understand ( _but he was gone_ ).

"This _is_ for Jack!" Will snapped, "This is what he would have wanted! He wouldn't want Barbossa to get to go gallivanting across the sea in _his_ ship! Don't you understand that?" Will turned away, not wanting to look at his father. Not able to stand seeing that look in his eyes (the same way Elizabeth had looked at him).

He didn't want to accept that his father might be right. He might be doing the wrong thing.

Will was watching the Black Pearl come apart.

Piece by piece.

Splinter by splinter.

It was death and war, and even love, before his very eyes. And it was beautiful.

So he didn't understand this feeling. Didn't understand the tightness in his chest. The dryness in his mouth. The burning in his eyes.

He should be glad. He was doing the right thing.

( _This is what Jack would have wanted._ )

* * *

Jack clenched his fists, nervously as he listened to the sound of his ship being torn apart, and the _boom! Boom! Boom!_ Told him just whose ship that was.

But why, he wondered as he stared down into the shimmering, reflective pool of whatever it was, why was Will destroying his ship? Didn't he know what that ship meant to Jack?

Jack just wanted it to stop. And he could only think of one way to accomplish that.

Jack fell to his knees, and shoved his hands into the water, it was cool to the touch, and it made him flinch, "I just want this to be different." he whispered as he cupped his hands and raised some of it to his mouth, "I just want... me life back." Jack watched the water as it flickered, as if it were trying to show him what his words would look like if they were a picture.

Jack scowled and watched as the water shifted, darkened, changed. And showed, finally, The Black Pearl. With him at the helm. "I never should 'ave gone to Tortuga that day." Jack said softly, wincing at a particularly loud cracking sound, "An' now I never will."

Jack leaned forward and sipped the water from his hands slowly. He felt strangely cool all over. He felt light-headed, and he felt amazing. He could feel the wind on his face, he could taste the moisture in the air. And all he could hear was the wind in the sails.

Jack closed his eyes and smiled as he took the last sip of the water.

He would never bring Isla De Muerta up again.

He wouldn't go to Tortuga that day.

And he would never meet Hector Barbossa.

He was going to be okay.

But Jack should have realized; What's meant to be will always find a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird chapter. I know. I like it though? It's so angsty though, and that might be because I was listening to Katie Costello's 'Stranger' on repeat as I wrote it(This song makes me think of Sparbossa like nobodies business, these lines in particular;  
> "Stranger I've known you for so long  
> I found you lost with a compass in the fog  
> Stranger you know me too much" -I find that to be a super Sparbossa-y song. Especially that compass in the fog line, I mean total Sparbossa *_*.  
> ... Whiiich is why I'm trying to save this fic, and make it turn back round into a good ole Sparbossa fic.). . But hey, maybe it has nothing to do with that.
> 
> Either way, I hope it's enjoyable (and yes, next chapters are going to center around Young!Jack Sparrow, Bootstrap, and duh, Hector Barbossa.).


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven: Don't underestimate the things that I will do**

Jack was standing on the deck of the Black Pearl with Bill, looking over a map, as they tried to figure out where they were going to make port, and though Jack thought it would be nice to go to Tortuga, Bill thought it would be smarter to go somewhere they could re-supply.

But Jack knew, just as well as Bill did, that he just wanted to go to Kingston because it was close enough to England, that the man could logically ask to stop in at London, and see his son (which Jack would oblige).

Jack was about to insist upon Tortuga (for they still needed a full crew), but when he was about to open his mouth, he paused and reflected, before nodding, "Alright." he said, much to Bill's surprise. "Maybe we could stop in London," Jack suggested, as he turned away, grinning over his shoulder, "An' see yer family." Jack outright laughed at the expression on Bill's face before he sauntered up the stairs to take the helm. Jack sets course for London, with a smile on his face, and Bill keeps an iron grip over the men.

Jack believes it will be this nice forever.

But sometimes places like London hold secrets that can tear your world apart. And send you crashing to the ground, with broken wings.

And Jack should realize, even now, that he will never be the same if he goes to London.

Hector Barbossa, currently shackled and being led into a cell, was mad. Mad because he'd been caught. Mad because he was sure his ship had left him behind. Mad at the code. Mad because he was to be hanged. Mad because he had no means of escaping.

Mad because it wasn't his crime he'd been captured for.

Once his wrists were free of the shackles Hector rubbed his wrists and stood looking at the guard, wondering if he'd be able to talk the man into letting him go, for promise of a reward he'd never receive.

But instead of trying, because he's always been better at threatening people then talking to them, Hector sits on the cold stone floor, and draws one leg up, and rests an arm on it, as his head falls back to hit the wall, and he sighed heavily.

Jack doesn't know why London charges you to make port, but he doesn't like it. The only reason he comes here as often as he does though, is for Bill to see his little son. The strange little bugger. He's a cute enough child, Jack thinks as he looks London over from the docks, but Jack just didn't understand that whole visiting your children thing.

He was sure he had many a child out there, but he wasn't set on seeking them out (well, if he heard about one perhaps he'd like to meet him, but he wouldn't go out of his way to raise him, the way Bill did.).

Jack scowled as he called a command up to the men on the ship, let them wait for Bill's return from his family. _He_ was going to go find some rum.

Jack _had_ been having a jolly good time in a tavern, with pretty women, and plenty of rum, until someone had gone and told the Royal navy that there was a pirate in town. And now he was being dragged, literally, through the streets of London, toward the cells in which he would now be confined, until he was to hang til he was dead.

Now usually Jack's mind would be working in over drive, trying to find a way out of this situation. Usually he would be all smiles, and cocky walk. Usually he would let everyone who passed him know that he was _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.

But he was in London. And last time he'd been captured in London he'd been branded a pirate. And as far as he knew Cutler Beckett was still in London. And Jack was sure he was still mad over his whole escape.

Jack hated the sound that shackles made when they moved, so with each _click, click, click_ he scowled harder, and harder. And though the men thought he was mad just for being captured, which wasn't the case, they only seemed to think it was all amusing.

Jack didn't move much when they dragged him through the streets, just the occasional smile at a pretty woman, but when they brought him to the cells he finally stood up straight, and seemed almost ready to resist the cell, but when they unshackled him and pushed him inside he didn't do much, just allowed himself to stumble, and then turned, with his hands raised up half way, and gave a slight wave as the soldiers stalked away.

Jack sighed, annoyed, and looked around the cell. He seemed to be the only man in this block. Did they have a cell block specifically for Pirates now? He wouldn't honestly be surprised (he'd heard that Captain Norrington had been making quite the name for himself capturing pirates lately). But how could he be the only Pirate in captivity? That made little to no sense, honestly.

Jack walked around the cell once, if only to see just how small it was, before he made his way to the window and stood looking out toward the docks, hoping beyond all hope to see William coming for him ( _again_ ).

Hector, who would have usually held his head up high, and walked purposefully, no matter what the circumstances, had to be dragged back to his cell for the ruthless beating he'd received at the hand of Cutler Beckett. The new 'P' branded on his arm was still throbbing painfully, and as he was tossed into his cell he couldn't even get the strength into himself to make his legs keep him standing. But rather he fell face first onto the cold, hard stone floor, and groaned.

Jack scowled at the man that now lay motionless beside him and began to wonder if perhaps he'd been beaten so bad he was going to die. "Are ye alright, mate?" Jack asked cautiously, as he prodded Hector in the shoulder with two fingers, the other man, however just lay prone, and Jack scowled harder, shifting away, because if the man was dead he didn't want to be near the body.

Jack leaned against the metal slotted bars, and looked longingly toward the window. Maybe William would get back to the ship sooner then he was expected. Maybe he would notice that Jack wasn't there. Maybe he would come and find him.

Jacks fingertips slowly traced the 'P' that had been branded onto his own arm a long time ago, and closed his eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position he drifted off to sleep.

Jack rarely dreamed any dreams of goodness any more. Ever since he'd gotten captured by Beckett he'd had nightmares.

And the incident with Davy Jones had only made things worse.

But tonight was a strange, and welcome rarity. Dreams of The Pearl, gold, and men he felt safe with. Men he could hand his life to, and not have to worry over. Men who could steer his ship through the worst of sea storms, and hurricanes. Men who could make him feel comfortable with a (wandering) hand on the shoulder.

Men who could leave him breathless with the touch of the hand, and a kiss to the mouth.

Men, that no matter the circumstances all answered to the same name ( _Hector_ ). A name Jack wouldn't remember when he awoke.

Men without faces.

Jack awoke with a start, shocked to find the man he'd taken for dead standing at the window, looking up longingly toward the moon. As he tried to figure out what had woken him, Jack climbed to his feet, and rubbed his eyes, to ensure he didn't look too childish as he approached the man. "Lovely night, eh?" Jack asked casually as he leaned on the wall, more to get a look at the man then anything else.

"Aye it is." he replied quietly as Jack studied him intently, wondering why he had such a sad look in his eyes, as if he'd given up all hope of leaving here alive,

"What's yer name, mate?" Jack asked at length, and the man fixed him with a cold piercing stare, and much to his horror, Jack just smiled at him, flashing gold and unusually white at him, ( _Hector_ )

"Hector Barbossa." he said finally as he held a hand out to Jack, and Jack casually placed a hand into his, and shook his hand firmly, though he appeared to be slightly perplexed,

"Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack said at length, holding Hector's hand just a little too tight, and too long, before offering a toothy grin, and he seemed totally confident, and self-assured. Too self-assured for a man locked in here, but something about his voice, maybe his name, and the confident way he smiled, made Hector long to believe that this man could help him get out of here.

Jack was sitting under the window next to Hector, they'd been talking since Jack had awoken, and Jack had learned that Hector had been quarter master on a ship that had docked here, in immediate need to resupply. And the a few of the men had caused trouble, that Hector had gotten picked up for. When he asked Jack, in turn, why he'd been picked up Jack fell silent, thoughtful as he continued to trace the 'P' on his arm, "Not really sure, mate." he said truthfully. "But I do 'ave a plan to get us out of here." Jack said turning toward Hector, with a wide grin.

"Us?" Hector asked, surprised as he turned toward Jack, curious. He hadn't expected the man to try'n help him. They were pirates. What was Jack doing helping him? (Wasn't it 'Take what you can.'?)

"Of course mate." Jack said as he looked slightly perplexed, "I like you. And since I like you, I can't just leave ye to hang all be yer onesie. Now can I?" Jack asked as he scratched his chin, looking at Hector as if he were daft.

Hector sat staring at him, shocked that the other man would display such bravado, though his he was a pirate. Such camaraderie. Shocked that this... boy would help him, when the men he'd been serving with for years had left him to hang for a crime they'd committed. "Now," Jack said leaning close, "Trust me. I 'ave a plan. An' I will get us-" he paused here to motion in between them, "You an' me both, out of 'ere. So ye jus' rest tonight, an' leave everything to Cap'n Jack." Jack grinned, and Hector couldn't help but laugh.

Couldn't help but let himself fall for all of Jack's charm. Couldn't help but let himself believe ( _couldn't help falling in love with Jack, again_ ).

Jack wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he was roused some time around seven by the sound of keys. Sitting up from where he'd slumped down against Hector (who coincidentally was also leaning against Jack), he began to rub his eyes as Hector sat up free of his support, and looked around bleary eyed.

Rising to his feet slowly, Jack smiled at the guard as he walked into the cell, "Come to hang us then?" he asked casually and the guard looked at him blankly, before rolling his eyes, and turning around to grab the shackles he'd had to place on the floor while he unlocked the cell. Jack and Hector look at each other, each man with his eyes wide, and a grin on his lips, and each one asking the other with his eyes; _It can't be_ this _easy, can it?_

Of course for Jack Sparrow escaping seems to come naturally. And this is no exception. So Jack leans forward, just as the guard is standing up straight, and wraps deft fingers around the hilt of his cutlass, much to Hector's shock and surprise, and slowly Jack draws it out, takes a silent step back, and as the man turns with the shackles his face blanches, and Jack just smiles, "Ye'd best be chainin' yerself to them bars, mate." Jack says casually.

And Hector, whose never seen anyone behave in such a way, is awestruck as Jack watches the guard shackle himself, and actually _returns_ the cutlass. "Thanks mate." Jack says with a polite nod, and _walks_ out of the cell. And a dumbfounded Hector can only follow (surprised to see that Jack is recovering their effects before they take flight).

"Go ahead then," Jack said as he placed his tricorner hat on his head, and turned toward Hector, "Get yer things mate, an' then we can head back to me ship." Jack said casually as he made sure his blade was still in the sheath, before looking around the corner, "Hope yer feelin' up to runnin', Hector." Jack said as he turned back to the still, and now visibly, stunned Hector, confused Jack hesitantly offered a smile, "Are ye alright?"

Hector started slightly, before quickly turning away to gather his things, embarrassed and still sore from the brutal lashing he'd received. "Aye." he murmured as he quickly placed his hat on his head, and grabbed his sword, "Lets go." he said grinning wickedly at Jack.

Jack's brash, and he's rash. But Hector begins to realize as they slip through the back alleys, making their way toward the docks, that he has a sort of cunning that most pirates don't possess. He isn't cruel though. Too nice, too sweet. Too childish.

Hector still doesn't understand why Jack is helping him. But he doesn't care (so long as he can stay with the younger man just a little longer).

"There she is." Jack's voice is soft, and loving, and it drags Hector from his reverie, and he looks up and sees Jack's ship. Jack's beautiful ship ( _and she's calling to him_ ). "The Black Pearl." Jack's voice is practically caressing the ship, and his tone... Hector has never heard anyone use that tone over a ship before. But he understands. "Well then." Jack says, and he begins to walk casually toward the docks, and Hector doesn't move to follow (he has an ill feeling).

"Thank ye, Jack Sparrow." he calls, and Jack pauses, and turns to look at him, he has a strange expression, and Hector can't figure out what it is about the other man's expression that tugs at his heart the way it does. But he feels like he knows every one of them by heart.

"Ye don't want to come with me then?" he sounds almost offended, and Hector raises his eyebrows, and looks little more then surprised, "Ye can." Jack says as he motions toward the ship, "Even if ye don't want to sign on with me, I can drop ye off in Tortuga."

Hector loos around for a moment, and Jack wonders if he's going to say no, but Hector walks swiftly toward him after a moment, and Jack grins. "Ye'll love the Pearl." he says affectionately, and then, and only then does Hector grin at him, showing the same enthusiasm that Jack has been showing the entire time, and without knowing why only one thought crosses Hectors mind:

 _'Ye 'ave no idea, Jaack.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: This chapter kinda... blows.**
> 
>  **Anyway, hope some one enjoys it regardless of my own negativity. I think the other chapters will come easier now that this is out of the way :D.**
> 
>  **...Just a fair warning, I think anyone who might be reading this fic is gonna end up hating it for what I have planned. That being said, this miiiight turn into a romance/bromance fic~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight: The scars of your love remind me of us**

When Jack casually (too casually) strolled up the plank they used for a walk way, and sauntered out onto deck, William wanted to weep with relief. Jack was okay. Jack was safe. Jack was here again (with him.). And he could just imagine what Jack would say tonight when he expressed his concern ("Bill... I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"), of course Jack always thought he would come back okay. Of course Jack believed he would always be okay.

But then again, to Jack his antics seemed normal. To Bill they seemed mad, dangerous. And he feared for the boy with every new adventure they had. "Jack!" Bill said as he ran down from the helm, to catch the captains arm, "Where have you been? Are you alright?" Bill was so concerned with Jack that he didn't notice Hector until he heard a slight gasp from the other man, and turned his eyes to Hector, and was surprised to see him looking at the ship with the same loving expression Jack often used. "Who is this?" Bill asked before Jack could speak.

Jack glanced back at Hector, and then turned back toward Bill, and placing a hand on the mans shoulder he grinned, "I'm fine." he said carefully, "I was in the jail. This is Hector Barbossa, he helped me escape." Jack grinned as he opened his arms and swayed forward, "He's goin' to be joinin' me crew now. Savvy?"

Bill seemed suspicious, but he trusted Jack's word. And if this man had helped Jack, then as far as Bill was concerned he was right by him. "Yes Captain." he said nodding toward Hector, "I'm Bill, I'm the quarter master." Hector looked at him strangely, and almost condescending expression on his face before he returned the nod, but he didn't move from Jack's side.

"Hector and I," Jack started as he motioned toward Hector, "Are headin' to me cabin to talk. I want to make way for Tortuga afore they notice we're gone then, mate." Jack patted Bill's shoulder, and took Hector by the arm and started leading him to the Captain's cabin, and much to Bill's surprise, and horror, Hector took his arm back, and instead wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulders, and leaned close, obviously speaking to Jack in a whisper.

Bill scowled as he watched them walking away, and wondered what had happened, and why Jack was letting this man treat him like a child.

But he didn't have time to dwell on the thought. They had to make headway before someone was sent to get them, "Weigh anchor!" Bill bellowed as he went to the helm, "Hoist the main sail!" as the men scurried across the deck, preparing to set off, Bill looked off toward the city and thought of his small son, and his wife (" _Where do your loyalties lie, William?_ ") Why couldn't she understand that he needed to do this?

Jack was more then some dumb pirate, as she'd put it. He was Bill's best friend. And the only man in this lot that he felt as if he could trust his life with. His wife would never, could never understand how much he owed Jack. Just like Jack didn't understand why Bill needed his wife.

Bill sighed as he took them out of port, his wife's angry words still ringing in his ears (" _Better yet. Where do_ his _loyalties lie?_ ")

He could trust Jack, and better, Jack could trust him.

* * *

Jack smiled up at Hector as he began leading him to his cabin, he was about to speak when Hector slowly tugged his around away, and though Jack thought he was going to walk away, the older man suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smiled back, and Jack felt a little better. "Ye know, Jaack,"

Oh he _loved_ the way Hector said his name. No one else said it like that, and it made it feel different. Made it seem special. And his accent... Jack liked his accent. Jack continued to smile up at Hector, encouragingly, and Hector leaned down slowly, cautiously, and spoke in a hushed tone (in his ear. Conspiratorially.) "I think I can be of great service to ye. Help you with many a things these others wouldn't understand."

Jack didn't miss the way Hector's arm tightened ever so slightly. And though he opened his mouth to correct the other man. To tell him that he proffered women. That he wanted women. What came out surprised him, "Oh?" his tone was entirely too wrong. Too curious. Too... submissive. "Go on then mate." Jack said imploringly as he looked straight ahead, smiling strangely.

"I've heard tales," Hector whispered as Jack opened the door to his cabin, "of the adventures of _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." And as Jack slowly closed the door, looking at Hector with the strange smile now reaching his eyes, Hector pulled away casually and went to the desk, his eyes quickly scanning the maps laid out on the desk.

"I've heard," Hector said smiling as he looked up at Jack, grabbing hold of the neck of a bottle of rum that sat on the boys desk, "Of how smart, how cunning." he casually picked the glass up as he walked across the room toward Jack, "How good he was. Heard of the tales of how Jack Sparrow out smarted Davy Jones hisself." Hector had a strange twinkle in his eyes, curious.

And Jack grinned, nodding just a little too enthusiastically, "I did." he breathed as Hector came to a halt in front of him and put the cup in his hand, and began to pour the glass full with rum, slowly. Jack wanted to speak, Hector could tell. Jack was flattered though. Flattered in a way he wasn't used to, and Hector could tell from the way Jack was looking at him that his own men weren't impressed with his exhibitions.

"You must be a," Hector paused as he took a step closer, and Jack moved back, "Fascinating captain." Hector breathed as he leaned close, and much to his surprise Jack's eyelids fluttered, and slowly closed. This was too easy (did no one know that to control Jack all they need do is stroke his ego?). Hector grinned wickedly as he reached over and slowly bolted the door, making sure Jack heard it click into place as he leaned closer still, his mouth hovering over Jack's, "I'm honoured that ye chose me." Hector whispered, thought only to make it sound as if Jack were in control.

Jack felt like he couldn't breathe. And it was taking a long time (too long) for Hector to kiss him ( _and just_ why _was he kissing Hector?_ ). He shouldn't be doing this. Jack knew he shouldn't be doing this. ( _He couldn't be doing this. Not_ again _._ ).

Hector was so close Jack could smell his skin (and he smelled like the sea. Jack was enthralled with it. With him.). Taste his breath.

Hector's hand was gripping his neck now, and Jack was moving forward against him, but there was something inside speaking to him. Telling him he shouldn't do this. That he should stop now, while he still could.

"No." Jack whispered as he gripped the front of Hector's shirt, and Hector paused (completely taken by surprise), before dropping the rum and catching hold of Jack's wrist, pressing his body forward to push Jack against the door, Hector rolled his hips, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from Jack (and still the younger man didn't open his eyes.).

Hector, who at this point (despite the spike of pleasure he'd just felt) still hadn't closed his eyes, and was greatly enjoying the look of sheer desperation on Jack's face. "Please." Hector whispered, because he still needed to keep this charade up. Still needed Jack to think he was in control. Still needed to pretend. But just to ensure the 'yes' he knew he was going to get, Hector rolled his hips again, pressing against Jack a little harder this time. Jack half whimpered, half moaned, as he tipped his head back against the door, gasping out the 'yes' Hector had been expecting.

Too easy.

This was all too easy. It shouldn't be this easy.

(Was he _really_ Jack Sparrow?)

It was slow, and soft as Hector kissed him almost delicately, and Jack loved it ( _No._ ). Wanted it. But he could have this later. Right now he wanted more ( _No._ ). He wanted rough. And he wanted this to make sense. Even though Jack was moving forward against him, and opening his mouth to allow better access he felt like he should stop, like he should move away, tell Hector to go.

But it felt so good. Felt like this was just where he needed to be. It felt _right_ (but Jack _knew_ it was wrong).

The glass Jack was still holding loosely slipped from his grasp and hit the floor, shattering. And rather then pull them apart the noise seemed to throw them together, and Jack wrapped an arm around Hector's neck and began to kiss him hungrily, desperately, and Hector, breathing a sigh of relief pushed forward against Jack, pinning him against the door, and finally closing his eyes as he let himself fall under a spell Jack had been weaving since they'd walked into the room (and though Hector didn't know it now, he would never be able to shake the feelings that were now building inside of him. He would never be able to let go of Jack.).

* * *

It must have been midnight when Hector finally emerged from Jack's cabin, and though he didn't see Bill sitting on the steps, Bill saw him (and the satisfied smirk he wore). Bill didn't have to ask Hector what had happened to figure it out. He knew what they'd done, and though he didn't understand it, he would never (could never) judge Jack.

But why, he wondered as Hector made his way below deck (still oblivious to Bill), had Jack chosen Hector?

What did he see in the man?

Bill wasn't sure, but as he rose from his seat, and slowly made his way back to the helm, he knew he'd lost some (if not all) of his respect for Jack.

* * *

After the night he'd seen Hector leave Jack's cabin, things between Jack and Bill changed drastically, Bill seemed to want to argue everything with him, and never seemed to want to steer the course Jack had chosen. Even when they stopped in Tortuga to restock, and for some fun, Bill didn't seem to agree with what Jack wanted to do there, though he was doing the same stuff that he usually did, and Bill had never cared before.

And though their disagreements had started off as mild, they were progressing quickly.

Horribly.

* * *

Until one morning, when Jack sauntered out on deck (with the sole purpose to make Bill change his mind), and up to the helm, where Hector and Bill were talking, about what Jack didn't care, and Jack leaned in close to Bill to quietly say; "I think, William," (at the name Hector gave Bootstrap an odd look), "that we should perhaps head to Isla de Muerta. Maybe you can finally buy your Bonny-wife that nice house she's after. It'd be nice to see the son again, wouldn't it?"

Jack knew, even as he started speaking that of all of the men, Bill would be the hardest to win back over (because when he was loyal he was loyal to a fault, but when he hated, he hated forever).

"What?" Bill asked as he whirled around, and the look of sheer annoyance on his face made Jack realize that perhaps suggesting Isla De Muerta wasn't such a grand idea after all, "Isla De Muerta? Where is this coming from all of the sudden?" Bill snapped, as he rolled the map he was holding up, and scowled at Jack. Obviously disappointed.

"S'not comin' from anywhere." Jack said hesitantly, obviously unsure of what to say, or how to word it now that Bill was so mad at him.

"It's not?" Bill asked sarcastically as he folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Jack, "Then why are you bringing it up, Jack? I thought we'd put that to bed." there was a bitter tone to his voice that Jack hadn't expected, and hearing it now made him very unsure of this whole conversation.

"I jus' thought," Jack said casually, with a slight shrug, "Tha' maybe you'd like to 'ave some money. To finally buy yer family somethin' _nice_ , is all." Jack knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, and Bill got that wounded look on his face, that he'd really said the wrong thing. Jack furrowed his brow, feeling down right awful for his words, but Bill had backed him into a corner, and he didn't have anywhere to go (naturally he'd insult the man, to get him to back off). "I mean..." Jack swallowed hard, and tried to think of a way to undo the damage he'd done, but he could tell it was too late.

Bill looked ready to throw down, Hector observed lazily, as he leaned on the wheel, watching the men bicker like women (Bootstrap, he'd noticed, had been arguing with Jack a lot since he'd noticed their... attentions with one another.) "What's Isla De Muerta?" Hector interjected just as Bootstrap took a slight step toward Jack.

And Jack, Hector noticed, was smiling up at Bootstrap, mockingly (so like him to underestimate the situation), and leaning back just _so,_ just enough that he was looking up at Bootstrap with a strangely condescending look in his eyes, and Hector marveled at the way Jack could look down on someone while looking _up_ at them.

There was just something... spectacular about Jack. Hector found himself smiling, as his heart thundered in his chest.

"Oh." Jack said, and he shifted his gaze to Hector, as Bootstrap let out a frustrated sigh and turned toward Hector, "You don't know about Isla De Muerta." Jack grinned as he slipped in front of Bootstrap, and leaned toward a smiling Hector, "Isla De Muerta," Jack looked at Bill as he said it, "Is The Island of Death." Jack grinned wide as he said it, turning back toward Hector, and the flag whipped over head in the wind, creating an ominous cracking sound, and allowing the sunlight to gleam menacingly off of Jack's gold teeth. Jack glanced toward Bill again, "An' incidentally it is said to hold untold amounts of treasure."

"It's a fools errand is what it is!" Bill snapped as he roughly grabbed Jack's arm and jerked him around to look down into his eyes (and though Bill seemed oblivious to it, Hector noticed Jack's expression clouding over dangerously. Jack didn't like to be treated like a child), "And the captain and I already decided we wouldn't be going after it." Bill leaned toward Jack, and the other man drew back, "Didn't we, Jack?"

"I think we should ask the crew." Hector, once again, interjected. Saving Bill, though the other man would never be aware of it. "I'd be willing to go after such an island, iffin we all got our fair share of the treasure, I be meaning." Hector grinned wide at Bill's scandalized expression, "Already tha's two to one, Bootstrap. Seems to me tha' ye've lost this one."

"Oh." Jack, again, gave the higher then his usual voice, one word realization as he jerked his arm away from Bill, and turned toward Hector, "Excellent. Then we shall, indeed, make berth at Isla De Muerta." Jack said as he began to saunter down the stairs, "Come on then, Hector. Ye'll be at the helm for this trip." Neither Hector, nor Bill, missed the scathing look Jack sent Bill over his shoulder.

But Jack missed the wicked smile Hector gave Bill, and the startled look Bill gave Hector as the man followed after Jack casually.

* * *

Though Jack had seemed fine on deck, and completely unaffected by Bill's attitude, and his words, when they got into his cabin Jack stood awkwardly by the side of his desk, silent. Hector, who'd leaned on the door by now, watched Jack lazily, wondering if the man was going to speak.

Giving up on Jack speaking first, Hector decided to give it a try, "Jaack." He said gently, hoping it would get the other man going again, as he seemed to have had all the wind taken from his sails.

"I don't know what happened out there," Jack sounded almost sad, and Hector wondered why it was still bothering him, "William is like..." Jack faltered, and Hector knew that was because he didn't like to appear weak.

Hector, no matter how much he wanted to console Jack so that he could hear more about Isla De Muerta, didn't know what to say to comfort Jack. He just wished the boy weren't so... sensitive. Turning his gaze to the windows Hector idly admired the craftsmanship there, as he considered his words carefully. He wasn't really sure what to say to Jack, or even what Jack wanted him to say.

They remained silent for several moments until Hector finally turned back toward Jack, deciding to try'n comfort the younger man, but when he saw Jack looking at him, wide eyed and desperate, he realized that he didn't need to comfort Jack. He needed to say what Jack wanted to hear. "But you're the _Captain_." Hector said carefully, as he motioned vaguely toward Jack as he stood free of the support of the door.

"Bootstrap is merely the quartermaster, he shouldn't be the one to decide what course ye should take, Jaack." Hector approached slowly, carefully, and placed one hand on his hip as he extended the other to Jack, making sure to give his most winning smile, "It's your decision, and your decision alone... _Captain_." Hector was a little surprised when Jack suddenly caught hold of his hand,

"Me decision?" he asked quietly, and Hector was again surprised by the younger man. But this time over the fact that he was actually asking for reassurance (for something every other Captain would have used to begin with).

"Aye." Hector responded gently as he clasped Jack's hand tightly, and stepped closer to the other man, who also moved forward, standing not but a few inches apart, Hector leaned close, his mouth alongside Jack's ear, and softly said, "What ye need is a good first mate to help ye with the more... difficult decisions." Hector pressed on, keeping his voice gentle, and quiet.

Jack tensed, and Hector wondered if he'd brought the subject up too soon, and when Jack didn't respond after a moment he feared he had. But Jack hadn't pulled away yet, and Hector used it to his advantage, and brought his free hand around to gently grip the captains other hand, but other then that action he remained still, and waited for Jack's disapproval, or agreement.

Jack considered Hector's words (request? Suggestion?) for a moment as he stared at the wall just over the mans shoulder. It made a little sense. Having a first mate to discuss Isla De Muerta with might have made things easier today when he'd tried to talk to William about the trip.

But it still wouldn't have changed the fact that William was against the trip to begin with (but he was just worried about the stories of a curse surrounding the treasure, but Jack really didn't believe that anyway).

A first mate would make things easier for him, that was for sure. True as it was that William took a lot of his duties over for him, a First Mate would take over the things he didn't _want_ to do, but couldn't put off on his quartermaster. Mostly concerning setting courses, and that sort of silly thing. But still...

"A first mate?" Jack finally said, and Hector's grip on his hands tightened considerably, and he nodded. Jack fell silent again, as he considered the wall, almost intently, and after what seemed a life to Hector, Jack finally said, "Would ye be interested?"

Hector didn't breath a sigh of relief, he didn't even smile. No, Hector was smarter then that. He knew that Jack would be looking for strange behavior, and so he only pulled back to look at the other man, searching his eyes for a moment before softly asking; "Are ye sure, Jaack?" as soon as the words left his mouth Jack was nodding.

"Then I'll do it." Hector raised a hand to gently stroke his cheek, and Jack smiled weakly, "...To help ye." Hector said after a moments hesitation, and Jack seemed relieved at the words, so Hector pulled away gently, "Would ye like some rum Captain?" he asked, glad when Jack nodded for it would give him a chance to be alone, and a chance to be alone would allow him to celebrate.

Hector came out on deck slowly, and walked tall. Proud. And barely spared William a smile. And when he walked away William felt as if a wind bearing icy temperatures had passed over the ship, he could tell by Hector's look that what ever had taken place in Jack's cabin would ensure that things would never again be the same.

For any of them (especially Jack).

Hector made his way below deck, a wide, and thoroughly wicked grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of implied slash in this chapter, and a lot of actual slash in this chapter (it makes me a little sad to think that I have a lot of chapters to go before I get to use Elizabeth again *weeps*).
> 
> Anyway, what I mean is, this isn't JUST a slash fic (Jack gets to get on with some ladies at some point too). But if you enjoy slash like I do, then this might be good for you like it is for me too *wink*.
> 
> Can anyone guess what chapter nine is about :D? (I know I can, lol).
> 
> I hope this has been an enjoyable chapter thus far (btw, this is the longest chapter so far, and since I've been keeping habit of making the newest chapter longer then the last, who thinks I'll be able to do it this time?... not me xD).
> 
> The other chapters though, are going to be slower coming. My computer died, and with it all of my newer chapters, so until I get it going again, this'll be the last chapter up until... at least two weeks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine: They keep me thinking that we almost had it all**

Bill was standing at the helm watching Jack where he was perched precariously on the railing, swaying dangerously, threatening to pitch over the railing into the sea below. Bill scowled as he watched Jack, thinking of Hector (and Jack _together_ ), and the rumors that had begun to go through the ship, almost as soon as Hector had become first mate ( _quite randomly,_ Bill thought.), a position Bill himself had been vying for.

 _Mutiny._

And Jack (perpetually drunk ever since Hector had begun to lavish him with attention), Bill had noticed, was watching Hector as he walked across the deck, as if he were the authority here ( _and maybe_ , Bill thought wryly, _he was_ ). Jack was in love, Bill was loathe to admit. But Jack, Bill had noticed, had begun to look at Hector a way Bill had only ever seen women look at men, and vice versa. He'd never seen a man look at another man that way. It was... strange to say the least.

Bill was still watching Jack with a lazy interest, and scowled as Jack flagged Hector down, and the other man glanced around, and seemed almost nervous as he slowly made his way across the deck to stop in front of Jack. Jack was talking to him now, but Bill was disappointed to discover that he couldn't hear them.

Bill, as he watched, observed the way that Jack was swaying closer to Hector then he should have been. His hand was lingering on Hector's arm, when it shouldn't be. And he was looking up at Hector ( _too doe-eyed_ ) in a way he shouldn't be.

He was trying to pull Hector to him, and Bill could tell by Hector's posture that he didn't want to go to the man. He could tell he was resisting Jack (and much to his own surprise the thought caused him to grin). Bill noticed though, that Hector seemed agitated. Maybe even angry.

Jack gave Hector's arm a sudden tug, and raised a hand to point at the other man, and Bill realized suddenly that they were arguing. Hector was really mad about whatever it was that Jack was arguing with him over, and Jack was trying to...

Bill couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jack was trying to kiss Hector. That didn't make sense. They were out on deck, and the crew was surrounding them. Was Jack mad?

Hector, Bill noticed, seemed just as shocked by Jack's display as he himself was. Jerking his arm out of Jack's grip Hector took a step back, glowering at the other man, Jack however seemed confused.

Not understanding the problems, or pretending not to, Jack reached out toward Hector, in an almost desperate fashion, and Bill realized that he was straining to catch the conversation between the two men, though it seemed a bit rude (to say the least), Bill didn't care. It seemed important, and he was incredibly interested in it.

"Stop!" Hector hissed, and Jack had a slightly hurt expression on his face, and Bill felt bad for the other man despite himself, and he leaned back as if startled by Hector's word.

"Hector..." Jack said pleadingly as he once again reached for the other man, and much to Bills surprise Hector gabbed Jack's wrist and jerked him to his feet, dropping his wrist he grabbed him by the shoulders, before turning around and roughly shoving Jack away from him.

Jack would have hit the deck had it not been for Ragetti who happened to be standing there watching the whole scene with the same sort of interest that Bill himself had been watching. Bill was absolutely horrified by Hector's actions, and apparently so was the rest of the crew for they had all stopped working, and stood sentinel watching Hector with a look of horror plastered on their faces.

Jack whirled around, glaring, a look of hate in those expressive eyes that Bill had never ( _not even with Cutler Beckett_ ) seen before. He was shocked.

"Why don't ye go sleep off the rum?" Hector snapped, more of a command then a question really, as he pointed off toward Jack's cabin, "I'll be in to talk to ye about this later!" he snapped, and Jack just stared at Hector.

Bill could see that Jack was trembling, and he began to wonder why Jack didn't just get the cat out and give Hector a good what-for. Bill was utterly horrified to see Jack turn around and walk away (he didn't even stumble. And Bill began to wonder if he was drunk after all).

No one moved to come to Jack's defense ( _just like Bill_ ).

And Bill stood sentinel and watched Hector as he bellowed at the men to get back to work.

Jack was laying on his bed going over the events that had just occurred on the deck over and over again. He couldn't understand what had just happened, or why it had just happened. He knew he should have done something, perhaps punish Hector, but things with Hector were so much different then with the others.

Hector knew him. Understood him ( _loved him)_. The others didn't. And he couldn't possibly punish Hector for standing his ground. Jack knew he had been out of line to start with. Kissing Hector in front of the others was a little foolish.

Jack heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, shifting closer to the side of the bed Hector usually slept on, he wrapped his arms around the blanket and drew it closer, pretending that he was holding the other man instead.

Jack was roused sometime later (how much later he had no idea), but the door opening (and Gods, he hadn't realized how much that door needed oiled), he thought about turning over to look at whoever was standing in the door way, but he opted to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep.

Whoever it was he didn't want to talk to them right now anyway. He heard them shift their position and close the door, and finally they started walking over to his bed, and he could tell by the footfalls that it was indeed Hector.

He realized then that he wanted to talk to Hector, though he was mad at the other man. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but he felt as if he should be apologizing. So he, once again, continued to pretend he was asleep.

Hector came over to stand by the bed, where he stood looking down at Jack, Jack wasn't sure how long he was standing there before he slowly sat on the edge of the bed, carefully, as if he didn't want to wake Jack. Hector slowly began to stroke his hair, and though Jack was curious he forced himself to keep his eyes shut.

Hector sat there for several moments before he lightly ran his fingertips across Jack's cheek, as if he needed to touch the other man. Before slowly bending down to kiss Jack's cheek, shifting slightly he gently kissed the corner of Jack's mouth.

And the kiss was so soft, so sweet, so gentle, that Jack almost turned into it (almost let himself believe Hector loved him, _again._ ). But he caught himself before he did so.

Hector kissed him again, and then again, and Jack was concentrating so hard on his breathing that he almost didn't hear Hector whisper, against the corner of his mouth; "I'm so sorry Jaack."

Jack wasn't sure what Hector was sorry about, but he assumed it was the scene on deck earlier. But the sadness in Hectors voice made him wander if it was something else. He was still contemplating these things when Hector rose slowly from the bed, and quietly made his way to the door. Opening it slowly, he turned back to look at Jack's prone form once again, sighing Hector raised a hand to rub his eyes (wiping away a tear Jack would never see, and Hector would never admit to), "I really am, Jaack."

Jack smiled as he heard the door closing, and as he drifted off to sleep he dreamed that he and Hector found Isla De Muerta, and became rich. Bill was happy and liked him again, and all was well.

Because Hector really loved him.

Jack slept happy, not knowing that morning would bring the worst day of his life.

Bill was nervous. Not the typical big-job jitters he occasionally got. But the 'this isn't going to work' kind of jitters. Jack wasn't your typical captain. He was _Captain Jack Sparrow_.

Jack Sparrow.

He wasn't the type of person to take this type of thing without giving back as good as he got. And Bill knew that Jack would make them pay for this, no matter what it cost him. No matter how long it took him.

He would give as good ( _or bad_ ) as he got.

And though Hector had reassured him several times this morning that things would work out just fine, Bill felt strange ( _guilty._ ). And he felt as if Hector was wrong. As if he didn't know Jack as well as he himself did ( _didn't love him the way_ Bill _did_ ).

Bill felt as if Hector didn't know what he was talking about, when it came to Jack.

Bill, standing at the door of the Captains ( _Jacks_ ) cabin, he was trembling. Waiting on Hector emerge from the First mates cabin felt like an eternity, and Bill was scared. Scared of what could happen( _or would_ ) happen ( _what Jack would say_ ).

Finally, finally, Hector walked out of his cabin, followed by several of the larger deck hands, and the bo'sun. One look at Bill, and Hector scowled, obviously able to tell he was feeling so nervous. Hector approached him slowly, and hesitantly reached out toward the door, still looking at Bill, "Ye don't 'ave to be here." he offered, and Bill (being a man, and a pirate) didn't want to look weak, so he shook his head,

"I'll be fine." he insisted, and Hector just stared at him a moment longer before opening the door to Jack's cabin and stepping in, followed by the men, and Bill. Hector seemed, Bill observed as the other man stood not much past the doorway gazing at Jack in a strange, strange way, nervous as he himself was ( _or maybe_ , Bill mused, _it was something entirely different_ ).

Hector's expression changed in an instant as he looked back at the men, a strange smirk on his lips, and an expression of bemusement. "'E's still sleepin'," Hector rolled his eyes, and the men laughed, and their laughter, Bill noticed, caused Jack to wake. Laying on his back Jack opened his eyes slowly, and had an extremely unusual expression; one of utter bewilderment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows and cast a look around the room, his eyes lingering on Hector, who was now grinning at him, and then scanning over the men, and coming to an inevitable pause on Bill. And realization seemed to dawn on him slowly (so slow it seemed to take forever). "Oh." Jack whispered, and the tone of voice, the strange look on his face, the sadness in his eyes, pulled at Bills heart in a way he hadn't known possible (and he looked down to avoid Jack's eyes, and pretended he didn't feel the tightness in his chest, the dryness in his throat, the burning in his eyes).

"Oh." Hector said as he slowly approached the bed, and Jack looked up at him, and as he shifted into a sitting position he almost reached toward Hector, but stopped himself, not wanting to seem as desperate as he felt. "This be a mutiny Jaack," Hector started slowly, and Jack didn't move, didn't acknowledge his words, "It'd be in yer best interest to go along quietly."

Bill didn't look up at Hector's words, didn't bother to see what Jack was doing, about to do, didn't bother to see what Hector was doing. He just stared at the floor the whole time.

Jack sat silently as he looked up at Hector, obviously confused. But he shifted toward the edge of the bed, and slowly climbed to his feet, "So, what's my fate then?" Jack finally said, and Hector slowly wrapped his long (elegant, clever) fingers around Jack's bicep and began walking him out of the room while the bo'sun gathered Jack's pistol, and his cutlass, and followed Hector as he led Jack to the deck. Bill was the last to follow.

"Well, Jaack," Jack cringed as Hector addressed him, he didn't love it anymore. "I've given that some thought. An' I decided tha' I would prefer marooning ye, to killin' ye." (what Hector didn't mention was that he hadn't even been able to talk about killing Jack, let alone going through with the act). Jack seemed to wilt as Hector wrapped an arm around him shoulders, and he, like Bill, dropped his gaze to the floor.

They walked across the deck slowly, the heels of their boots clicking ominously on the deck as they approached the plank Hector had set up. The sun wasn't yet up, and there was still a mist hanging over the water, which only seemed to make the islet the Pearl was anchored in front of, seem smaller. Jack looked up slowly at what was to be his new, and final home, and inevitably his resting place.

Hector pulled his arm away, and for the first time since they'd walked out on deck Jack felt the chill of the morning go through him, and had to close his eyes, as he shivered slightly. Suddenly there was a warmth on his back, and he realized that Hector had placed a hand on his back, just between his shoulder blades. The warmth from Hector's hand was spreading across his back, and Jack wondered if perhaps this was all a dream. He hoped so.

But then Hector gave him a hard shove, and he stumbled forward, his eyes opening begrudgingly, as he stared at the plank, and felt himself stumbling as he stepped onto the plank. "Walk." Hector said when he didn't move for several moments. Jack looked out over the sea, once his closest friend, and now his enemy, before he took a shaky step forward, pausing to turn around when Bill's voice cut through the air,

"Captain!" Bill said as he pushed his way through the crowd, and Jack felt his heart soaring. Bill had come to save him. Bill had come for him. Bill, he could always count on Bill. But Hector was turning toward him, and Bill was walking toward Hector. "You forgot," Bill was handing Hector one of Jack's pistols. And Jack felt as bad as if Bill had shot him. He could breathe.

Hector took the pistol, still in a holster on the belt and looked it over for a moment, "Thankee, Bootstrap." he said before he stepped up onto the plank and slowly, almost affectionately put the belt around Jack's abdomen. Hector smiled slowly, "Ye best be goin' now, Jaack."

"Hector," Jack said, though it sounded more as if he were sighing the name, "I thought..."

Hector rolled his eyes as he took a step backwards, and back onto the deck, "Tha's Captain Barbossa."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, Bill assumed, as he finally looked at the man he was betraying. Jack was looking straight at him, his mouth slack, a look of betrayal on his face Bill had never expected to see. "Go." Hector said after several moments, and Jack, trembling, turned and walked slowly (and again, to Bill it seemed to take forever for him to get to) the end of the board. Jack glanced back over his shoulder, and hesitantly whispered, into the air ( _and it was to reach the ears of only Hector, and William_ );

" _I thought ye cared_."

Jack stepped over the edge, and Bill, and Hector alike, both felt a chill run through them, unlike any other cold wind they'd ever felt before ( _it was the wind of destiny_ ). The men laughed an uproarious laugh, and Bill felt sick ( _guilty_ ). Hector, or _Captain_ Barbossa, turned on the crew with a look of anger Bill hadn't been expecting, and bellowed out orders. His tone was angry, almost hurt if Bill didn't know any better.

Bill turned toward the other men slowly as he drug a hand across his mouth, trying to wipe away the strange taste in his mouth, and he watched as _Captain_ Barbossa went to the helm. Bill could tell already; this was going to be a hard trip to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the THIRD version of this chapter. I wrote it one night (the night I uploaded chapter eight), and as I was editing it, my computer crapped out. Huh. And then my windows needed deleted re-installed, so I lost the chapter, along with several other POTC fics I was working on (and chapter 11 of this fic o.o). And then I went ahead, as soon as my computer was fixed, and re-installed everything. And then I finished chapter nine, again. And my computer died, for good.
> 
> And then I wrote this through gmail (lol). And I'm borrowing my moms computer to upload it/spell check. So uh, yeah. This chapter sucks balls compared to the original version. And like, obviously, until my computer problem is fixed, I'm on hiatus ;_;. I'll write via note book for now, and type it out when I get a chance. Until then, enjoy this chapter~


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten: The scars of your love they leave me breathless**

It had been almost three weeks.

Jack was gone ( _dead_ ).

And Bill knew he was never to see the other man again, and the thought brought a cold deep into his bones that he hadn't known he could (or ever would) feel. And Barbossa ( _Hector had died_ , Bill realized, _the day that Barbossa had marooned Jack on that islet_ ), was as cruel a captain as ever sailed the seas.

The men, should they not comply with an order fast enough, were lashed, until they were in such intense pain, that they begged forgiveness. And Bill, in all of his years on the sea, had never seen a man reduced to begging the way they did before Barbossa ( _so full of hate, and rage, for which he had only himself to blame_ ).

Bill, who had been the last man to stand at the railing watching Jack grow smaller and smaller with each passing second, until the islet had been nothing but a white line on the horizon, felt nothing. Not the whip of the cat, not the sharp words of the captain, and not the hollow threats of the other men.

All Bill could think about, as he went about his work in a mindless stupor, was the cold, cold look in Jacks eyes as he'd looked back over his shoulder. And now, Bill realized as he saw Hector standing at the helm looking out over the sea, it was all he could think about.

Hector had a haunted look about him, and Bill realized that Hector must not have expected Jack to go so willingly either. _Maybe_ , Bill wondered as Hector tightened his grip suddenly on the wheel, _it was all the he could think about too._

Bill turned away as one of the men approached him, he seemed nervous, and Bill supposed that meant he needed to talk to Barbossa, "Aye?" Bill asked, wondering why the man seemed so surprised,

"The captain, he..." the man paused and motioned, "There's a ship approaching." he finally said, and Bill glanced back at the ship and nodded slowly,

"I'll tell 'im." Bill said as the man nodded and rushed away to get back to work. Bill raised a hand to lightly rub his eyes before turning and walking upper deck to pause at the helm, where he stood staring at Barbossa, until the other man finally looked at him.

"What?" Barbossa snapped, and Bill wasn't sure why but he felt the sudden urge to launch himself at the other man, but for whatever reason Barbossa seemed to notice, for he stiffened and folded his arms across his chest and stood glowering at Bill.

Bill stood silently for a moment, though he could tell Barbossa was becoming agitated. "There's a ship approachin', Captain." Bill finally said. Barbossa scowled before turning around to look back at the ship on the horizon, scowling even harder Barbossa raised a hand to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

"Drop anchor." Barbossa said at length, and Bill who had stepped up to the railing to try'n get a better look at the ship whirled around to face him, obviously surprised,

"Sir?" Bill said, in a tone of voice that let Barbossa hear the disapproval, he ought to have been hiding. Barbossa seemed less then pleased with his response, for he quickly stepped forward and caught hold of Bill's collar, pushing him back against the railing Barbossa leaned forward, causing Bill to slightly recoil from the strike he knew was coming, but Barbossa didn't lift a hand to him, rather raised one and pointed to the men on deck, and Bill had to wonder just what was keeping Barbossa from striking him, when the other man seemed to have a heavy hand with the other men,

"Drop anchor." he hissed before giving Bill a rough shove toward the deck, and a startled, and slightly confused, Bill went to comply with the order he thought ignorant, and only thought of Jack.

Barbossa hadn't been reacting much to the ship approaching, but as it got close enough for them to read the name on the hull Barbossa seemed almost nervous as he looked his looking glass, and stood staring at the ship. "What is it captain?" Bill asked after a moments hesitation.

"Teague." Barbossa said at length, and Bill felt his stomach drop. Teague would surely punish them (if not kill them) for abandoning Jack. Wouldn't he? "Weigh anchor. We have to move. Make for the nearest port." Barbossa said after a moment and Bill nodded as he rushed down to the other men, and began bellowing orders.

Barbossa stood watching the ship as it cut through the waters before turning on his heel and marching down the stairs, heading to his cabin, he knew Bill would take care of things, and though he was sure the other man would want his attentions on deck, he didn't care. He needed to think. Needed to figure out how the hell this had happened?

How had he been so careless?

Sitting up to his desk slowly, he stroked his beard as he began to think, trying, in vain, to think of a way to explain Jack's absence should Teague catch up with them.

Teague wouldn't do anything short of killing him, Barbossa realized as he raised his eyes to the window, and observed The Sea Malfica, it was an ominous sight indeed, and he felt an involuntary shudder go through him.

Though the Sea Malfica was an ominous figure in his near future, there was only one figure on Barbossa's mind at that instant; Jack Sparrow.

No matter how he tried to think of something, someone else, all he could think of at that time was Jack. Jack and the mutiny. The looks Jack had given him, on that day and the day before. Such hate. Such intense, fiery hate.

Barbossa leaned back in his chair, as he stroked his beard again, thoughtfully, and continued to look out the window, watching the clouds darken overheard, perhaps it would storm today, he wasn't sure, but it did look that way.

He wouldn't care, as long as he was at port by then.

Barbossa thought of the islet he'd left Jack on. If it stormed long and hard that'd raise the tide, and undoubtedly wash the body, nearly decayed, out into the sea.

Maybe it'd carry his soul out across the waves, and give the sparrow a chance to spread his wings and fly away.

And maybe, just maybe, if that happened, it would remove his memory from Barbossa's mind.

Barbossa, despite himself, found that he was praying (actually praying!He couldn't believe he was letting himself buy into such stupid superstitions) that it would be a terrible storm, and that it would help Jack.

At that moment he saw a rain drop hit the window, and grinned.

He had no idea how fateful that prayer would turn out to be.

When it started to rain most of the men went below deck to get away from it, but not Bill. He stayed at the helm, and steered the ship, squinting to see through the rain as they went along, and to him, though the wind had picked up, the pearl seemed to be slowing down (maybe she knew they'd thrown her true master off).

Barbossa came out onto the deck slowly, and Bill could see that he could feel the ship balking as well, of maybe he felt something the Bill himself couldn't feel.

Barbossa pulled his spy glass out and aimed it out across the sea, to the south, where Teague would be, should he be following them, Bill assumed he wouldn't be able to see anything through the rain, and he would be right, though Barbossa would never tell him.

Barbossa seemed to be very displeased with what he was seeing for he came upper deck, and took the helm, sending Bill to the deck to help the men with the sails. Bill scowled as he made his way down the stairs, carefully. Maybe there was a storm coming, he thought as he reached Ragetti, and began to help him.

Barbossa scowled as he narrowed his eyes, wondering what possible motive Teague could have for following them. There could be no possible way of knowing he'd marooned Jack, and there would be no other reason for Teague to approach the ship. And just what, Barbossa wondered, was Teague doing outside of Ship Wreck Cove?

It was all very curious.

They were sailing straight into the storm, Bill noticed as he squinted against the rain, the men seemed to notice too, for they began to talk of albatross, and angels. And Jack. (' _We shouldn't 'ave done 'im tha' way!' 'It's payback, from them Gods Jack always spoke of' 'Jack Sparrow didn't worship no Gods' 'No, but 'e spoke o' em!'_ ) Bill wasn't sure who was speaking, but they were right, and though he agreed with them wholeheartedly, he remained silent.

He wanted to join in their words, wanted to curse Barbossa, cry to the heavens. Throw himself overboard. But most of all he just wanted to know that Jack ( _could, would_ ) had forgiven him.

The men stood with him, on the deck in the pouring rain, all of them looking straight into the hurricane they were sailing into. All of the men spoke to him, spoke of Barbossa's madness, spoke of the mutiny, spoke of Jack, spoke of death.

The men were whispering of mutiny, the traitorous scum they were.

But not a word did ever utter, Bill.

For he had discovered that there were worst fates then death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO much shorter then I'd intended, but I like it this way, and hopefully, so will you guys. (Doubtful).
> 
> So, I already know what I'm going to write for chapter 11, but no idea how long it will take. Hopefully not long (as you probably already noticed, this chapter is very Bill centric).
> 
> Also, dun dun, next chapter is the chapter I think'll make people hate it :D
> 
> Still on a sorta hiatus...


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven: I can't help feeling**

Jack stood silently on the beach as he watched his ship sail away, he was numb all over, and tired. Tireder then he should be, he knew that much. He wasn't a man who believed in religion, but he was praying. Praying for a miracle that wouldn't come.

Jack was standing in the surf, the water washing up against his boots that he knew he should take off. And he was thirsty, he realized, thirsty and tired. He turned slowly, and his mind seemed to turn with him.

(There was rum here, between several palm trees. Under a door covered with sand)

Jack raised a hand to touch his head, his head throbbing as he tried to focus his eyes. That was strange. Jack began a slow, careful walk to the trap door he knew he was expecting.

He found rum, and after the first two bottles he pulled his boots off and stripped down to his pants, he noticed, as he sat on a barrel of rum, that a map had fallen from his clothes. Picking it up with careful, nimble fingers, Jack read it over carefully.

Shrugging Jack laid it on a crate sitting beside him (which he knew to be full of food) to dry. When suddenly, an idea came to him. The same way he'd found the map, he'd give it to someone else. Jack stood slowly, making his way around the room, it took a while but he found an inkwell, and some parchment.

Jack knelt by a crate, laying the paper on top of it he started at the blank paper, white with the moonlight, before he finally began writing, carefully.

* * *

William Turner III was bored. He didn't like being a fisherman, but it was the only way he could get out on the ocean. His mother always got nervous when he was on the sea too long, it was awkward. Stepping onto the deck William held his jacket over his arm, his hands in his pockets as he walked along the dock, heading home, but something on the sand bar caught his eye.

The sun glinted off of it, and drew his eyes like a moth to a flame, and as soon as he saw the bottle on the sand bar he felt as if it held something important!

Glancing around William saw that obviously no one else had spotted the bottle. He walked leisurely, trying not to come off as strange as he was sure no one else would see the bottle he was rushing to get. And so he walked, as if it were an ordinary walk across the sand.

William knelt to grab the neck of the bottle, and as he stood he cast his eyes around the area, before walking to the only empty port there was, and sitting down he popped the cork out with the small dagger he kept in his boot (it was a dagger his father had given him when he was nine years old).

And tipped the bottle over, catching the contents, he untied the... hair? That was holding the shut, and let go of it, letting the sea carry it away, he suddenly felt strangely cold as he watched it go. William unrolled the letters, and shuffled through them, the top one was a long-hand letter (sloppy), the bottom two were maps.

Treasure maps?

* * *

And so Jacks first day on the island consisted of watching his heart and soul sail away to his riches, and his night consisted of writing. Writing of the likes he had never done before.

The next morning was started with Jack standing knee deep in the surf, a bottle clutched in his hand as his eyes looked off into the horizon. He would die here.

Jack tossed the bottle into the waves, and watched as the wind shifted, turning the tide and carrying the bottle away from him, away from the island. And into the waiting shore of another island. He closed his eyes, and inhaled the sweet salty scent of the ocean, and turned away, walking against the unusually strong winds he made his way back into the cellar, and opened another bottle of rum, as he settled on the floor, the door blowing shut over his head, and he knew the sounds of a hurricane better then anyone else.

If he was going to die he might as well die happy. Jack raised his bottle, before tilting his head back, and taking a long swig from it.

* * *

 _To whom so ever may happen to catch hold of this, I Captain Jack Sparrow, captain of the Black Pearl, have been viciously mutinied upon._

 _By my salty sea dog of a first mate, and my traitorous quarter master, Hector Barbossa and William Turner._

 _Abandoned, and left for dead with naught but a shot in my pistol, I have in my possession two maps. Which I have graciously enclosed, one of which leads to unimaginable treasures, and unless I manage to escape from this Godforsaken spit of land and collect upon it, the treasure should remain there to the day that you find this._

 _The second map is rather confusing. As I have not managed to go by there._

 _But I do suspect that it holds something great._

 _I do digress, however, I hope one what holds my existence in memory may have found this._

 _As a pirate it has been my ultimate goal to remain forever in the memory of, well, everyone._

 _Perhaps I am still laying in the sand on this islet, perhaps I've made a miraculous escape. Perhaps I've died, perhaps I've become immortal._

 _If you've heard of me, then likely I haven't died here. If you haven't, then you missed out of a grand pirate indeed lad (or lass)._

* * *

And so, Jacks third day was spent on the beach, lazily watching the clouds drift by, until he happened to look toward the horizon, and lo! He beheld a ship sailing toward him! Jack climbed to his feet, the bottle of rum slipping from his fingers as he rushed into the surf, smiling widely, as he raised his arms to wave at the ship.

Anchor dropped, wind shifted, the captain and a few crew members climbed into the longboat, the boat was lowered into the water. The water pitched the ship, it turned. Jack's breath caught in his lungs.

The Sea Malefica.

The long boat was brought to shore slowly, and not a step did Jack take, nor any breath did he breathe.

"Hello Jacky." Teague was grinning, "Mutiny?" he was so casual, "Perhaps ye'd like a lift off of this islet?" he asked generously.

Jack moved slowly, as if he were afraid he would cause them to disappear if he moved any faster, "I'd like revenge." he said slowly. Teague nodded, Jack climbed into the boat.

* * *

William turned the page over there was nothing after that, almost as if he'd just stopped writing at that line, perhaps something had happened... Jack Sparrow? He knew that name. Captain Jack... it was like a signal flare from his past, sending sparks up behind his eyes.

When he was a young boy... Yes, he'd known Jack Sparrow!

William smiled as he climbed to his feet and walked over to a near-by barrel, laying the maps out on it he began looking over them carefully, his mother had told him stories as a boy, about the place called Isla De Muerta,

Perhaps he should tell her, William straightened up, rolling the letter and two maps together as he cast a look around, noticing the dock master wasn't around, but a man was docking a... dinghy boat. Thinking it strange William rolled his eyes and approached the man, "Excuse me, sir?" he said as he tucked the maps into his belt scowling.

The man turned slowly, whirling on his heel in a way that seemed rather unsteady to William, he had a strange smile on his lips however, and his strange hair made a tinkling sound, "Yes?"

"It's a shilling to dock your boat." He said motioning toward the boat, "And I shall need to know your name." he would wait for the dock master, and then he would pay, and be on his way.

"Say, you look familiar... Have I threatened you before? "The man raised an eyebrow, almost completely obstructed by the red hair scarf he was wearing, William looked exasperated, "What say you to three shillings," he pulled three shillings awkwardly from his money pouch as he placed them into Williams open hand, "And we forget the name?"

William scowled as his eyes caught sight of a slight bit of ink on the mans arm. A tattoo just above the 'P' branded into his flesh. He was a pirate. William took the shillings feeling as dirty as the man looked, the man walked away as the dock master approached them, he tipped his tricorner hat, and the dock master stopped in front of William, "Name?" he asked, and William handed him a shilling feeling strangely light headed,

"Turner." he said slowly, "William Turner." before he walked swiftly away, he walked past the pirate, but didn't notice the look of sheer amazement on the mans face. William started the long walk home, looking at the money in his hand, before dropping it into the sand, not noticing when the pirate he didn't realize was following him, knelt and picked it from the sand, blowing the dirt off of the shillings and grinned.

When William reached home his mother opened the door for him, and kissed his cheek as she took his jacket. He entered, and she closed the door, neither of them saw the pirate standing against the tree at the end of their walkway.

Jack smiled as he looked the house over, it was so small, so quaint. So very... lonely. He couldn't understand how Elizabeth could do this to herself. But it was her lot in life, and he was perfectly content to watch from the streets, through the windows, as her beautiful son, so very like Will in looks, and so very like her in spirit, that Jack thought him a perfect specimen (and if he had been a woman Jack was positive he would have gone to his knee for him).

As was usual with them, Jack could observe from a distance, but never touch. He sighed as he turned away and began the walk back into town to deal with what he'd come here for.

* * *

They were at water almost three weeks before they saw the Pearl, and Jack felt a surge of anger unlike anything else he'd ever felt at the very sight of her. He knew that Barbossa would think them to be following at a distance, but in actuality they were simply heading in the same direction.

After a day traveling through a heavy storm Jack and Teague stood at the held, each man holding a spy glass, squinting against the rain trying to catch sight of the Pearl. "He's turnin' off course." Teague said suddenly, and Jack nodded, grinning,

"All the better, mate." Teague patted his back and they collapsed their spy glasses, and looked off into the eye of the storm, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Uhg, this fic is getting to the point that the chapters are complicated, and hard to write. Hopefully this is okay!
> 
> Does anyone hate it *trollface*? :3


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: We could have had it all**

Teague's crew was too different from his own crew ( _loyal_ , his mind provided). As he stood at the helm beside his father, the rain beating down on them, they watched the crew as it worked fervently through the rain, and wind. They had avoided the hurricane, and they were almost to their destination; a place Teague had been before. A place he had told Jack of, showed Jack.

Jack knew he shouldn't, knew it wasn't healthy, but all he could think of was Hector Barbossa. The mutiny had been a stupid thing for the other man to do. But when Jack thought of the nighttime visit, before the mutiny, he wondered if perhaps Barbossa truly was sorry for his actions ( _For though he was a mutinous bastard Jack could tell he had cared about him once and deep down might still_ ).

Jack scowled, swaying with the ship as the waves rocked her back and forth. It felt awkward, foreign to him, his fathers old ship didn't handle half as well as the Pearl had. The motions felt jagged, strange. When these very motions felt graceful on the Pearl.

The swaying became a necessity on the Sea Malefica, where as on the Pearl they were merely a habit. The cave was in view now, and Teague was crossing the deck of the ship to the jolly boat that was about to be lowered into the water, the men were gathering round; he would need them to gather the treasure.

All but Jack crossed the deck, Teague looked back at his son questioningly, Jack shook his head, and his father nodded climbing into the boat.

Barbossa hated that he had docked when he should have continued toward his destination. Already they had been here over a week, when they should be at Isla De Muerta. He felt as if he had been tricked, but he couldn't understand why he felt that way.

Slowly he lifted his glass to his lips, his eyes on the stormy skies. Something about this seemed... strange. And he felt as if he should go back to where he'd left Jack and make sure the man was dead. Though, he reasoned sipping his ale, there was no way he had survived on that islet.

He looked up as Bill came to a halt beside him, and scowled, what could his good for nothing Quarter Master want now? "What do ye want?" Barbossa snapped, agitated that Bill was blocking his view.

"We can head out now, Cap'n." Bill suggested, and Barbossa grunted, "Storm'll be gone a'time we get out there." Barbossa didn't know if he trusted Bill's words; and why should he?

"We'll leave," Barbossa said loudly, "When I say we leave!" Bill looked at him strangely, and Barbossa didn't understand that look, but he did understand Bill shaking his head and turning away, walking across the floor of the pub to stand beside the captain of ' _Shrouded in Mist_ ' the ship that had docked in yesterday.

He realized belatedly as he watched Bill with mild concern; Bill was the navigator and he wasn't sure he could afford to lose the man- he was doing the same things to the crew that Jack had done to them. He was delaying the trip to Isla De Muerta. Rising from his seat slowly, Barbossa tossed a few pieces of eight on the counter, and made his way toward Bill, but as he approached he heard the captain give a hearty laugh ( _curse that Turner Charm_ , Barbossa thought), "Aye Bill," Barbossa said stopping short of the men, and hooking his thumbs behind his belt, "it's time to set out lad."

Bill looked at Barbossa, and for the first time since they'd begun sailing together Barbossa saw the fury, and hate, in Bill's eyes. And the other captain ( _what was his name_ , Barbossa wondered, _who could walk in here and assume control the way this man had done without anyone knowing who he was?_ ) "Nay," Bill said putting his hands on his hips, and turning his nose up to Barbossa, and Barbossa had to fight the urge to strike the insolence from his features, "I set out a week from today. You and your crew set out today."

Barbossa turned his eyes to the captain standing beside Bill who had the nerve to smile at him, crossing his arms Barbossa feigned indifference as he regarded the other captain. He lost Bill. How could he replace him in such a place? He didn't even know where Jack had gotten Bill to start with. "I'm captain Norrington." the captain addressed Barbossa, and Barbossa gave a slight shrug, as if he didn't care. And maybe he didn't.

Turning away, Barbossa tried desperately not to stumble; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of those who had just become his enemies. Making his way through the pub he gathered his crew, and told them to make way to the ship; they would become rich men today.

–

Jack watched the horizon with a strange look of sadness in his eyes that his father couldn't quite identify, nor comfort, for he didn't rightly understand the look of a broken hearted sailor; for never before had he experienced such a loss of love ( _heart and soul_ ) as Jack was at this moment in time.

Jack wouldn't tell his father; for how could you explain such a thing to those truly ignorant of such a pain that felt as if it were tearing through your very being?

Destroying you; leaving you in ruin; a mere shadow of your former self.

For no longer did Jack exude the gaiety that had helped him to win over even the most fearsome of men in his life.

His jaunty walk had become a dull sway to match the ship. The beautiful twinkle that had been in his eyes had disappeared; only to be replaced by a dull gleam of anger; for pirate he had truly become; and kindness, and goodness, now meant nothing to him; and in future raids of which he would accompany his father Teague would experience a loss so great he would later weep in his cabin.

For his son, his lovely beautiful, kind son...

Was dead.

And he didn't know the man standing next to him.

He didn't think Jack knew him either.

–

It didn't take them long to reach Isla De Muerta, and though Barbossa now held the duties of captain, and navigator, he fared well. And he rather forgot about Bill, in almost no time at all. Bill had been Jacks; and Barbossa was rather relieved to be rid of the albatross tied around his neck, for now they were guilt free; who was 'Captain Jack Sparrow' but a whisper now?

The men, accompanied by their captain, rowed into the small cave, and saw naught but a stone chest sitting in the center of the cave, on a small rise. Above it, in the ceiling of the cave there was a break in the stone, and the moonlight poured in, and down onto the chest.

They climbed out of the boat and approached the chest slowly, looking around having expecting more treasure the way Jack had described this place. Barbossa caught sight of silver pieces, and gold pieces littering the riverbed around the small rise where the chest sat, "Collect them." he said pointing to the water as he went to the stone chest.

It was a strange sight, should anyone have seen it, Hector Barbossa standing staring at the stone chest as if afraid of something, and men kneeling in the circular ring of water around the stone chest. A strange ritual one might have though.

Pushing the lid to the side Barbossa was a little taken aback at the sheer amount of gold in the chest; "Look at this." he whispered and slowly the men came to him, and peered over his shoulders. Barbossa and the men all seemed in a trance as they looked down into the treasure.

Sparkling in the moonlight, the gold painted a picture for them; a picture of riches, a picture of happiness. Of all the women and wine (or rum) they could want.

But not a man moved to take the gold, for there seemed to be a strange force holding them back.

Barbossa was the one to break whatever spell had come over them, grinning wickedly he reached out to the gold, and grabbed a fistful, a loud laugh ripped its way from his throat, and he threw his head back laughing loudly, before wheeling around to face the crew, "We're rich gents!" he shouted and the men cheered.

But what good could come of cursed gold?

–

Jack had gone below deck almost an hour ago. He was allowed to stay in the first mates cabin for the remainder of the trip, the first mate would bunk with the rest of the crew. But he hadn't moved since he had come into the room, for all he could do was sit on the bed and look at the floor in between his boots.

For what good could have come from what he had done to Hector?

Had he not cared for the man at one time? And in turn had the man not cared for him? Leaving the cursed gold behind seemed but a petty revenge. And Jack honestly regretted it. But what could he do now? Surly the other man had claimed the gold, unknowing of the curse of course, by now?

Jack could save the other man. He knew that.

But why should he? Barbossa had betrayed him; tricked him! ( _Stolen his soul, and smashed his heart beneath a boot heel_.).

Why should he feel guilty?

Why should he feel anything at all for the other man? Obviously Barbossa didn't feel for him at all.

Jack sighed as he raised his hands to rub his eyes, whatever spell had been cast on him had now been broken. Jack rose shakily to his feet and made his way out to deck. Pausing in a beam of moonlight, cutting between the sails, Jack paused to look up at the moon, and smiled slowly.

 _Revenge_ , he thought, _was best paid in full_.

Let Barbossa and his crew get cursed.

They deserved it after all... _even_ Bill.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen: You had my heart inside of your hands**

Tortuga.

He'd always felt as if he were the bastard child of this bastard town, but Jack had been born to the sea. And to the sea he belonged, for no human ( _and he understood this now_ ) could ever hold him. Or would ever hold him.

For you can not love the sea the way the sea needs to be loved.

He couldn't put a number to how long he'd been here. It seemed a lifetime ago he'd stood on the dock waving his hat at the disappearing for of Teague's ship. Out of the horizon it had come to rescue him, and into the horizon it had gone again.

A bottle of rum in one hand, and his compass in the other Jack walked languidly through the streets of Tortuga, fights breaking out all around him, and he cast a glance around, not many faces stayed the same week after week. And he wasn't sure what week of faces he was on now. Usually too drunk to take much notice of anything outside of himself anyway.

A lovely jingling sound was coming from his hair; it sounded sweet, and melodious.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd added a trinket to his hair, but it didn't matter anyway, he decided.

The only thing Jack was sure of these days was the fact that he felt he needed to get back on the sea. And as he walked into the pub it was the only thing he had on his mind. But what was the point of sailing, he wondered as he stumbled to the bar, when you didn't have a ship to command?

Flipping the compass open Jack stared at the face of the compass as he sat heavily on the stool, and watched the needle as it pointed to the left side of the pub, and seemed to be circling the pub. What was it pointing at?

The needle moved slowly, as if at walking pace.

Confused Jack snapped the compass shut and tucked it into his sash, and motioned for another bottle of rum. He was too busy paying attention to his drink, and self pity, to take notice of the rumors flowing steadily around him.

But when the door slammed open, and men walked in on heavy steps, and the crowd stopped talking so loudly, Jack spared a glance over his shoulder. And then rose slowly from his seat, placing the hat on his head, just as the call rang out over the pub, "We'll 'ave yer best rum, an' wenches iff'n ya please!" followed by a laugh he knew too well, and Jack turned slowly, as the crowd parted.

And straight ahead of him was the man he'd sworn he would kill if given the chance, and sure enough he placed his hand on the butt of his pistol, Barbossa however hadn't noticed him yet, and began advancing toward the bar, unable to make Jack out in the shadows he was now shrouded in, as he leaned against the bartop, but when Barbossa was within five feet he slowed down, eying Jack warily, and then stopped dead when Jack spoke slowly; "'Ello mate."

Bill wasn't with them Jack noticed. What had happened to Bill? Was he dead? And why, he wondered as he tipped his hat up to grin at Barbossa, was he so worried about Bill? Bill had betrayed him too.

"Jack?" Barbossa sounded disbelieving. The men around him took a step back, scared. And Jack just smiled.

It was late, almost time for the sun to set, Jack realized as the sun cast an orangery glow into the pub through the hazy windows. Jack smiled even wider at the looks of horror on the mens faces, and the orange sun light glinted off of the gold in his teeth, and only served to scare the men even more.

Jack looked downright demonic in the lighting, with a glowing mouth, and even Barbossa was tempted to turn and run, for surely Jack was a demon. How else had he gotten here? It was unexplainable.

"That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, mate." Jack swayed forward, pointing at Barbossa, charm dripping from his words as he smiled invitingly, and Barbossa almost reached out to see if he was real.

"What are you doing here?" Barbossa asked, his voice flat, and even. Obviously frightened.

"I figured," Jack shrugged as he moved forward swiftly, placing a hand on Barbossa's should before any man could so much as touch his cutlass, "I should relieve ye of yer temporary captaincy. As it were." Jack's words were soft, and his hand was light. But his eyes were strangely frightening. And Barbossa felt something cold twisting inside.

He felt none of the warmth he used to feel wafting from Jack. He felt none of the warmth Jack's body used to bring to him. He felt nothing. "Did ye now?" he didn't realize he'd meant to speak until the words were out. Jack just smiled. Jack always smiled.

"What say you to going upstairs wiff me mate? I suppose I should thank ye right proper like." Barbossa looked slightly confused, so Jack took hold of his elbow, as he swayed forward, his mouth a mere inch from the shell of Barbossa's ear, his breath ghosting over the mans flesh, but unlike the times before aboard the pearl, this brought no rush of heat to Barbossa. Brought no prickling sensation to the back of his skull. It brought forth no reaction. "For taking care of me ship."

Barbossa wanted to pull away, but he stayed in Jack's grip as the man lead his up the stairs. One hand on Barbossa's elbow, and the other wrapped around the neck of a bottle of rum, and a strange, strange smile on his lips.

–

To dock at Tortuga and see The Black Pearl moored there sent a strange shiver through Bill. Surely fate couldn't be so cruel as this? Surely there was a punishment more fitting then to throw him into Barbossa's clutches at every turn?

Bill steps were light, his gaze cautious, and his walk wary. Captain Norrington walking several feet ahead didn't seem to notice how far behind he was falling. No glance over the shoulder, no beckon of his hand, no soft words on the air.

And oh how Bill longed for Jack! How he missed him! How he so regretted his actions in the past.

For Jack had been a good man (if not the best captain), and he had not deserved the fate bestowed upon him by the crew of the Black Pearl.

They approached the pub Bill knew the Pearl's crew to be inside.

Bill entered slowly behind the captain, and cast a look around the room, nervous. He had been right. The crew was all about the place. But they didn't seem to notice him, too busy spending their spoils, he noticed.

Those coins... he recognized those coins.

That was the cursed Aztec gold!

Bill slipped away from his captain, and carefully picked his way through the crowd, closer, and closer to the crew of the Black Pearl. Barbossa wasn't in sight.

What was he doing?

Bill stopped, and watched the men, contemplating his next move. Surely he had a plan. Why else would he have come over here?

It was at that moment, however, that the Gods chose to smile down on Bill, the laughing raucous men slapping their hands on the table, didn't notice when a coin bounced off of the table, and rolled across the floor, to come to a halt between Bills feet.

No one noticed.

No one was looking.

Bill bent and picked the coin from the floor, just as Norrington called out to him. Bill spared a last look to the men before turning and making his way back to Norrington.

Let the men keep the curse that followed this gold.

They deserved it.

–

Jack had pushed him down onto the bed as soon as they'd walked into the room, and Barbossa hadn't resisted when Jack had dropped the bottle to the floor, and climbed up into his lap. His fingers were strangely rough in his hair as he forcefully tilted the Captain's head back.

Barbossa felt his hat slip away, but he didn't have time to think about it before Jack's lips were covering his; and just what was Jack planning?

Barbossa's hands found their way to Jack's hips, gripped tight enough to bruise, he let himself fall under the spell of that kiss; so soft, and so sweet, and so very, very delicious.

 _(But something was wrong. So very wrong.)_

Jack's kisses were hungry, and he was moving fast. One hand traveling down Barbossa's chest as he opened the clothes to reveal the other mans chest, and once the shirt was open to expose his chest Jack's hand was slipping inside to stoke across his chest. So soft. So tantalizing.

And meant to drive him mad.

( _But it wasn't working- why wasn't it working?_ )

Jack's lips, which he knew to be hot and so he imagined he felt their warmth, but truth be told no warmth ( _not from Jack's hands, not from Jack's lips_ ) penetrated his cold, cold skin.

Jack was pushing him down on the bed, and Barbossa clutched the front of his shirt in one hand and jerked him down with him. Jack's lips grazed his, and Barbossa groaned, turning his head slightly, trying to capture Jack's lips. But Jack's lips were attacking his throat, and he was sure he would have marks there in the morning. But he couldn't stop wondering-

 _Why was Jack here?_

 _Was Jack here?_

 _Had he gone mad?_

 _Why was Jack doing this?_

-just what was in the younger pirates head? Had he a strange plot of revenge in mind? Was he trying to lull Barbossa into a false sense of security only to kill him moments later? ( _Yes_ , his mind screamed, _he wants you dead!_ ) Barbossa shifted lazily as he put a hand on Jack's shoulder, and quickly brought a leg up on Jack's side, flipping them over he straddled Jack's hips and grinned down at him.

Jack's breathing was slightly labored, and he was smiling strangely. There was something different about him, Barbossa noted. Something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Something... dangerous.

Jack's face was flushed, and Barbossa could tell just by his expression that he was rather hard already. Grinning he leaned close, letting his breath ghost over Jack's lips as he spoke, "What arre ye doin' mate?"

Jack laughed breathlessly, and Barbossa pulled back just so, as Jack tried to catch his lips in a vicious kiss, "I was plannin' on _you."_ Jack said with a wicked grin, and Barbossa chuckled as he leaned down and lightly kissed Jack.

He would have to pay attention. He would have to be careful. He would have to make sure he didn't fall asleep here- not beside Jack. Jack's hands worked deftly, peeling his clothes away slowly, and Barbossa allowed him to do the work, as he watched Jack's hungry expression ( _could it be, he wondered, that Jack's desperation not to leave the ship had been for him? And not the Pearl herself?_ )

Jack touched Barbossa's shoulder lightly, surprised at the slight chill on the mans skin, Barbossa ignored Jack's perplexed look and began to help the other man out of his shirt, "Yer so cold," Jack said propping himself up on an elbow, deterring Barbossa's shirt removal, "what's wrong?" Jack's voice was strange, and Barbossa rolled his eyes,

"Nothin', ye fool." he insisted as he shifted forward, trying to catch Jack's lips, but the other man moved back, pushing himself away, up into the moonlight. And a smile, a strange strange smile, was offered and Barbossa moved closer.

Closer to that glittering treasure that was named Jack Sparrow.

Jack was smiling, and Barbossa leaned forward to kiss his lips, but suddenly the smile vanished, and look of horror crossed Jack's features, it was so unlike him that Barbossa was surprised, "What's wrong Jaack?" he asked, smiling, and Jack recoiled slightly.

Suddenly Jack's hands shot up and he shoved Barbossa to the side, throwing him off of the bed, before jumping out of bed and rushing toward the door, "'Ey! 'Ey!" Barbossa yelled climbing to his feet, wondering at the strange clicking noise that followed after him as he stood.

What was that, he wondered annoyed as he rolled his eyes before running out after Jack who was just now leaving the pub, he saw Bill, and almost laughed at the look of horror on his face before rushing down the stairs, his crew a little unnerved at the sight of him shirtless, but he ignored them as he rushed out and saw Jack standing in the street staring at him as he stood in the doorway.

Barbossa walked to the edge of the porch and motioned Jack to him, "Come back here." he said firmly and Jack regarded him strangely before taking a step backward, and frustrated Barbossa reached for him, but what he saw made him stop mid reach, was that...

That couldn't be...

His hand.

His skeletal hand.

Jack turned and ran down the street. Barbossa imagined he felt cold.

But he felt nothing as he drew his hand back.

He didn't realize Bill had been watching.

Turning away Bill went back to his table, wide eyed and utterly afraid.

But none heard the merry laugh that burst from Jack's throat, as he ran through the streets going no where fast, none saw the smile that graced his lips.

None knew that never before had revenge tasted so sweet as it did that night for Jack Sparrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was enjoyable!
> 
> I... I actually rather enjoyed it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen: And you played it**

Barbossa was pacing in his ( _Jacks_ ) cabin, his mind was reeling, and he didn't know what to think of this curse; didn't know how to understand it; didn't know how to believe it.

What was this? And what did Jack know about it, if anything? His shock that night had been real enough, and that gave Barbossa reason to believe that Jack didn't have anything to do with it.

But hadn't Jack offhandedly mentioned a curse of some sort haunting the cave? Was that what this was? Was he cursed?

And if he was cursed how did he get rid of it?

Barbossa heaved a sigh as he sat heavily in the chair up to the desk, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair he wondered just what the curse entailed. Was it just skeletal figures in the full moon light? For he hadn't noticed anything else.

Would they be able to figure out what was causing it? He hoped so.

Shifting back in the chair Barbossa closed his eyes, his mind on Jack Sparrow, though he couldn't explain why.

What had been Jack's angle in Tortuga? Why had he been there? Why had he been alive? How had he gotten off of the island?

And just why hadn't he asked Jack any of these questions in the pub?

Letting out a frustrated growl Barbossa swiped his arm across the desk, sending his bowl of apples, his maps, the rum, and a few assorted items to the floor. Something was wrong, and he couldn't figure out just what it was. Why, he wondered, didn't his arm throb where it'd made contact with the bowl?

Things were strangely out of place, and it was like he couldn't focus his eyes; like he couldn't put it back together again. With the picture unclear, Barbossa was unsure of what move to make next.

He sat back in his chair, fixing his eyes on the window, thinking of Jack, the Black Pearl, and the curse; unable to figure out which one he was supposed to deal with first.

–

Bill wasn't sure what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but sending the coin he'd stolen to William seemed to be the right thing to do, and he had no idea of just how he knew the coin had something to do with the curse ( _the curse he almost hadn't believed in; the curse he'd seen with his own eyes_ ).

He'd needed an excuse; something to send William; and so he'd kept back a book, a book he himself couldn't read, but knew his son, his son in England, getting a proper education, would be able to do so. He didn't know what the book was; couldn't read the title, and none of the other men seemed to be able to read it, so he didn't think it mattered.

A book, wrapped in brown paper, the medallion closed within, and then a carefully folded dress, for his wife, placed on top, before the whole thing was wrapped, and sent off. He knew it wasn't often that his packages reached home, but he desperately prayed this one would. It was so very, very important, and he didn't know how he would feel if it didn't.

He went back to the ship, his eyes on the ground, and his heart some where out at sea, and for all he knew he could lose his soul at any given moment. So he wasn't sure how to feel about this; any of this. The captain had told his when they'd moored that the navy was out after him; _for blood_ , he'd said, I _'ll understand if you don't want to continue on with me_ , he had added, and Bill had been conflicted, but in the end he'd agreed to come along, for what fate could be worse then the fate he'd already coveted?

Jack hated him. And that hurt worse then any hanging the navy would give him. He had betrayed Jack, and he had to live with that every day. But at least, he thought as he made way below deck, Barbossa was also suffering.

But what of Jack? What had become of Jack?

He hadn't heard any news of the other man since he'd seen him in Tortuga, and he wasn't sure he ever would again. But it seemed inevitable he would hear of Barbossa, and the Black Pearl.

Bill wasn't sure anymore if he feared, or welcomed, the hangmans noose.

He rather hated himself these days.

–

He wasn't sure what to do; where to go; how to handle himself. He felt rather droll these days, and he wasn't sure why. All he knew, and knew he really knew, was that some where his heart was sailing into the oblivion riding upon his very soul.

He was burning from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do about it; it didn't matter how much rum he drank, that only seemed to make it worse. And he was beginning to lose sight of every thing he'd planned, everything he'd told himself to take care of; and all that remained when he closed his eyes was the image of Hector smiling at him as they'd fled the Naval barracks, away from those jail-cells.

He should have known then, he knows, that there was something strange about the man; he should have known the first time Hector touched him; he should have seen it coming, and he should have tried to stop it when it did come.

But it was all over with now, and all he could do was wait for the tides to turn in his favor. And until they did he would sit here and drink rum; the burning within growing hotter; the hatred in his heart growing; the self loathing creeping in.

Yes; Captain Jack Sparrow seemed rather broken down these days.

–

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd seen Barbossa and them that day in Tortuga, but it didn't matter now. He was standing on deck looking straight into the mans dull eyes, wondering why he seemed so defeated; so crazed.

They were blaming him, he realized as the men circled him, yelling oaths, and brandishing pistols. And Barbossa was agreeing; _Why else would 'e 'ave left 'afore we made way?_

He wasn't sure what to do, how to react, and so he stayed silent, until Barbossa made up his mind, "Strap 'im to a cannon." he gave the strangest grin Bill had ever seen as he took a slight step forward, leaning toward him, "By 'is bootstraps." he snickered, and then men around Bill roared with laughter, and approval.

He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't move. He was petrified. The men took his arms roughly and dragged him toward the side of the ship, he thrashed violently, kicked, and scratched. But no matter what he did he couldn't break free, and finally the tied his arms, and then slammed his against the railing, dragging his feet up onto a cannon, and cackling while Babrossa laughed manically, they were tying his feet to the cannon, too tight for him to slip out of his boots.

The ropes went around his ankles several times, looped around both of them together several more times, and then down around the cannon, and Bill's chest was heaving; he was hyperventilating, and Barbossa kept laughing.

It took twelve men to get the thrashing man, and the cannon over the railing, and the all stood at the railing, staring down at the bubbles as they came to the surface and popped. Bill was finished, and that satisfied them, and they turned back to the ship to raid it.

Bill was sinking, sinking so quickly, and his throat was burning; his lungs burning, and his eyes stinging. He didn't know what to do, other then give up. He wanted to know he was crying, but it was impossible to tell, really. He wasn't sure, he realized as he looked down into the endless black depths of the ocean, if he was scared.

He was trying to breathe, but all he was managing to do was get water into his lungs, he felt dizzy, and so very, very heavy, and every thing was growing dark. And then, just when he thought all was lost; behold! A voice in his ear;

" _Do ye fear death?_ "

He was trembling from head to foot, and he knew he couldn't speak, for the water in his lungs, and filling his mouth, but he wanted to answer, wanted to tell that strange, strange voice; "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* Yeah, suppose that's done then; somehow I'm not as glad as I'd expected to be.   
> Made a full circle though, eh?


End file.
